Rhonda IV: Friends and Family
by JayDogg187
Summary: Arnold and Rhonda are ready to take their blossoming relationship to the next level: by revealing it to their best friends. But that may be the easy part; there's still their families. And what would a certain blonde girl in a pink dress have to say about this development?
1. What About Our Friends?

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**Author's Note**: What started as a one-off, standalone story in "_Rhonda: From 'like' to 'like-like'_" has now taken on a life of its own. And I'd like to acknowledge the main driving force behind the subsequent stories: _Orange Ratchet_. Your reviews and requests for more stories are what kept me going, and as per your last request, this story will be a multi-parter. Shoutouts also to _The J.A.M._ and to _Kryten _for your consistent reviews and comments. Hopefully, you'll find this edition no less enjoyable. Peace out!

**And yes, there's a Spotify list involved here, which covers all the 'Rhonda' chapters so far with this story:**

Little Foxes - Fourplay

Looking Through Patient Eyes - P.M. Dawn

Secret Garden - Bruce Springsteen

Have Faith - Nianell

* * *

**1\. What About Our Friends?**

"So…Arnold…"

As if Nadine hadn't already guessed the reason for this meeting with Rhonda.

"Let me tell you, Rhonda, if you were trying to keep this…are you two even an item? Well, if you meant to keep it a secret, then the game's up."

Although to be fair, the game had long been over. In a small neighborhood within a small city like Hillwood, kids notice. Like they noticed how Arnold and Rhonda were becoming closer in their interactions. How their conversations were more casual and lingering longer and longer. How they seemed to be _enjoying_ each other's company. Observation became the word. And the word eventually became loud enough to reach the couple.

Hence, this meeting between the two best friends in Rhonda's room.

"Yes…Arnold…" was Rhonda's hesitant reply. Though she was too young to grasp the concept of irony, she was fully aware of how awkward a position she was in, given her reputation as the school's gossip girl.

"So…" ventured Nadine. "How did this start?"

And with a heavy sigh, Rhonda replied: "Remember that football game against the fifth graders?"

* * *

Meanwhile, in a park somewhere in the neighborhood, two boys – long-time friends – were tossing a football back and forth between each other.

"Arnold my man," asked Gerald out of nowhere after a particularly hard throw, "what gives with you and Rhonda?"

The question _did_ distract Arnold, though not enough to prevent him from catching the ball. He threw the ball back to Gerald, along with his answer: "I'd like to think we're at the like-like stage."

Arnold's answer shook up Gerald in the way the latter's question was meant to do to the former, and Gerald was rendered too distracted to catch the ball, which instead harmlessly conked him on the head.

"Say _what _now?" With that, Gerald collected the ball and walked over to his friend. Recreation was about to make way for the impending interrogation. "And just how long were you planning on keeping the two of you a secret? I mean…for all the good it did you."

Arnold, feeling some defensiveness creep upon him, replied: "Look, why are you still asking if you already know the answer?"

"Well Arnold, there's hearing it through the grapevine, then there's hearing it straight from the mouth of your best buddy. Whom you'd _think_ would trust you enough to share such an important bit of news."

Ah yes, Gerald. Arnold's best friend and part-time moral compass, purveyor of the strategic guilt trip. "Look, Gerald, the reason we weren't talking about it is…well, because until not long ago, _we_ weren't sure about…well, _us_."

"But you're sure now, aren't you?" probed Gerald. And when he saw the prolonged doubt on Arnold's expression, he followed up with: "Look man, why don't you start from the beginning?"

"OK, but I think we're gonna need a park bench."

* * *

"He kissed you?" Nadine was flabbergasted. "Omigawd, he _kissed_ you!"

"I know," was Rhonda's understated response, in contrast to her best friend who was moments away from hyperventilating. "Don't get your hopes up," she continued, trying to temper Nadine's enthusiasm. "It was a disaster. Maybe he was watching too many romantic movies, but he thought the pouring rain would be the best time to try his stunt. Plus, I was all muddy and sweaty and my clothes were stretched and torn and…and…_what_?"

She noticed how Nadine had taken on a quizzical, smirking expression. "So you're saying that if things weren't all wrong, if it wasn't raining and you weren't a mess, then it wouldn't have been a disaster."

_I walked into that one, _rued the raven-haired fashionista. _No other choice then_: "Yes. Yes, it would be."

"And that's how it started?"

"Kind of," conceded Rhonda. "I mean, we were kind of on edge with each other after that. You must have noticed how we were going out of our way to still be friendly with each other."

"Not really," answered Nadine. "Didn't look any different from how you two usually addressed each other."

"Anyway, then…_it_ happened."

"What?"

"You know…_it_!", which Rhonda spoke with and an underlying tone of _please don't make me spell it out_.

"Oh…you mean the time your family went br—"

"_Don't say it!_" Rhonda interjected sharply. "I still get nightmares from that time! It was only because of Arnold that I didn't go insane!"

"Go on," encouraged Nadine.

"You know, he was first to see through my act. But still, he never made fun of me because of it. Never felt sorry for me. It's like he…he.."

"Saw you as a person?" offered Nadine as she completed the sentence.

"Exactly. _Exactly!_" Rhonda confirmed. "He made me snap out of it and turn my situation around. He helped with his kind words and encouragement. But then…" she let her voice trail off.

"Yeah," Nadine once again picked up the slack. "Your family gets their fortune back and then…Aspen."

"Then Arnold had to go and spoil it!" lamented Rhonda.

* * *

"So second time was the charm?"

The boys were now seated on a park bench, with Gerald alternating between asking probing questions and coaxing the answers out of Arnold.

"Yeah," admitted Arnold. "Apparently I made her want to cut her vacation short. If you believe her, she came all the way back from Aspen just to kiss me in the park."

"Probably to show you how to do it properly!" Gerald then let out a chuckle before continuing. "My man, Arnold! Making the ladies travel a million miles just for a taste of his fine, fine sugar!"

To which Arnold blushed furiously, suddenly grateful that no-one else was in the park to hear Gerald's outburst.

But Gerald knew that he now held the upper hand and pressed his advantage. "So after that second kiss, you kinda, _sorta_ became a couple?"

"Something like that," Arnold replied sheepishly.

"All good and well, Arnold," continued Gerald. "But there's still one unanswered question. What in the name of all that's holy possessed you to want to kiss Rhonda Wellington Lloyd the _first_ time?"

"Gerald, I can't explain. It was like…_suddenly_…I'm not seeing her as just another girl. Suddenly…I don't know…I'm seeing a girl who's tough and pretty at the same time and I'm…you know…totally into her. I know she can be a pain sometimes, but suddenly it didn't matter anymore—"

"Mm. Mm. Mm," Gerald cut him off. "Sounds like someone's got it bad."

"And why are you making it sound like it's a bad thing?"

"Oh I don't know, Arnold," retorted Gerald. "Maybe because she's Rhonda. Wellington. Lloyd. And you're…well…_you_!"

"That's not fair, Gerald!" Arnold sounded hurt as he replied.

"Is it? When you and she…heck, she and the _entire_ PS118…exist in different worlds!"

"But you haven't gotten to know her better. I have, and I like it!"

"But that's just you, Arnold. Because she likes…sorry, _like_-likes you. But what about the _rest_ of us!"

"You mean the rest of us she'll gladly spend whole afternoons playing football and baseball with? All of us, who people as rich as her would avoid like the plague?"

"Well…I—" Gerald stammered for a counterpoint that he likely would have found had Arnold not angrily cut him off.

"And why would someone as upper-crust as her even bother with such low-rent events like the Cheese Festival, let alone _enjoy_ them? How come her parents haven't transferred her to a fancier private school? Did it occur to you that maybe, just _maybe_, she considers us all her friends and just has her own strange way of showing it?"

Gerald was taken aback by the passion with which Arnold had defended Rhonda, to the point where his entire case against the rich girl was derailed. Instead of a long list of negatives, all he could now manage was: "Wow. Sorry Man. I didn't know your feelings were _that _strong. You're serious about her, aren't you?"

"Gerald, I don't think I've ever been more serious about a girl."

* * *

The second bombshell brought Nadine within one step from collapse.

"Oh. My. _Gawd_! So you kissed him after you returned from Aspen?"

Rhonda nodded in response. "Didn't even wait to unpack my bags. Went straight to him."

Shock at her best friend's confession notwithstanding, Nadine had become fully invested in the story. "So how was it? Second time around."

She then watched how Rhonda's recollection of the event brought about a smile expressing longing and no regrets.

"It was…it was…I don't know…magical!" Rhonda, who was seated at the edge of her bed, recounted. "So much better than the first time! I tell you, something about Arnold, _something_ about him that makes him so huggable and kissable! Once I started, I just didn't want to let go of him!"

Nadine's look following that response became one of wry, light-hearted suspicion. "Is that why you let him carry you home after the baseball incident?" she asked, feigning pointedness in her tone. "Phoebe and Sheena told me you were just about kicking and screaming as he started piggybacking you. But now…was all that an act, I wonder?"

Rhonda could only react meekly at that 'accusation'. "It wasn't an act. At least not at first…"

"At _first_?" Nadine was now mimicking Rhonda in the way the latter would often pursue a juicy bit of gossip.

"Nadine," Rhonda began her answer in a tone suggesting that she was about to divulge the secret of life itself, "have you ever _felt_ Arnold?"

Nadine couldn't get a chance to respond because Rhonda didn't wait for her to answer. "He might be small, but…OH. MY. _GAWD!_" she explained as she let herself fall back onto the bed. "His shoulders and back and arms are so, so solidly built! I mean, you'd never think it when you see the loose clothing he wears! I can only imagine what a hunk he must be underneath all those layers…"

Rhonda capped off her description by flutter kicking her lower legs.

Nadine had gone silent all of a sudden. When Rhonda heard nothing from her, she rose back to a seated position to find her olive-skinned friend smiling a knowing smile at her.

"OK, what?" asked Rhonda.

"Rhonda," began Nadine, "the only time you go this gaga is when you're describing a new top that you really like, or the latest Nancy Spumoni boots. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've fallen for Arnold, _hard_."

"Nadine, I don't think I've ever been more serious about a boy."


	2. Jacqueline

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Nothing much, really. Rhonda discusses Arnold with Nadine. Arnold discusses R****honda with Gerald. That's the gist of it.**

* * *

**2\. Jacqueline**

The Sunset Arms held a most dreadful connotation for Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. It may have been Arnold's home, but try as she might, she couldn't shake off its association with her and her family's former indigence.

Yet here she was, with Arnold at the main entrance, bracing herself to enter the lion's den once more. Her unease had not gone unnoticed by Arnold.

"Rhonda, are you OK? Do you need another moment?" he asked. "We don't have to do this today if you're uncomfortable. We can wait until you're ready."

"No, Arnold," insisted Rhonda, "if I don't get over that experience today, then just _when_ will I get over it?"

Arnold could only smile encouragingly at her and concede: "Fair point…"

* * *

Arnold loudly proclaimed their presence to all and sundry occupying the building as he and Rhonda entered. Rhonda was still feeling somewhat trepid at revisiting this place, and her condition did not improve when they heard Phil shouting into the communal phone: "Dagnabbit! You want _how_ much for a new boiler? Look, sonny, I may be old and senile but I'm not an idiot! If you think you can get me to pay that price then you can kiss my wrinkled—"

At which point he turned and noticed his grandson, then quickly cut the conversation midsentence. "Ah… what I meant to say, Young Man," he continued in an insincerely civil tone, "is that I'll consider your price and get back to you." With that, he hung up, muttering something about a gouger and a bloodsucker before turning to Arnold.

"How you doing, Short Man? And you've brought a friend with you!" He'd noticed Rhonda alongside Arnold and narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you, Young Miss?"

"Grandpa, of course you do!" reminded Arnold. "Rhonda and her family were once tenants here."

"Of course! _That's_ why I remember you! You're also the one Arnold carried home after that baseball incident! How's the leg by the way?" Oh dear…Phil's vocal cords had found their stride and he had begun his trademark aimless rambling.

The revelation that he knew about the circumstances surrounding Arnold's impromptu visit filled Rhonda with worry that too much information may have been divulged.

"Arnold," she whispered to him, beneath Phil's incessant droning, "you didn't tell him _everything_, did you?"

Arnold, having seen the worry in Rhonda's expression, whispered back to reassure her: "I promise, Rhonda, I didn't."

"You're sure, right?" countered a hard-to-convince Rhonda.

Arnold, becoming nervous by her insistence, stammered back: "I promise! I didn't mention that they were white with blue stripes—"

"What?" the fashionista whispered back, a look of murderous intent now conveyed by her eyes. "Don't you _dare_ even joke about it!"

"Relax, Rhonda!" Arnold moved to calm her down. "I didn't mention _anything_ about…well…_that_!"

"Two words if you _did_, Arnold," Her glare prevailed as she warned him. "Hot! Wax!"

Phil hadn't noticed any of this exchange; he was regaling them with some or other tall tale as he gesticulated wildly around the room. The fledgling couple tuned him back in.

"…I tell you, a blow to the thigh might look innocent, but it can take a man off his feet in no time flat! Why, it reminds me of something that happened back during the war. I was stationed in a rural French village. Met a fetching young lady named Yvette. Let me tell you, the things she could do with a whip and paddle—"

At that precise moment, Phil paused, having realized that his story was fast careening into awkward, age-inappropriate territory, and quickly moved to salvage the situation.

"Dagnabbit, Short Man! Why're you coming here with such a filthy mind?" he shouted at his bemused grandson. He didn't wait for a response; he simply rebooted the conversation: "So…what brings your lady friend here? Couldn't get enough of our world-famous hospitality, could you?"

Rhonda forced a smile and answered: "Well, Mr. Shortman, Arnold and I are working on a book report and he invited me over so we could work on it."

"Oh, a book report, huh?" queried the old man, not totally convinced that he was being told the whole truth. When in fact, he was. Arnold and Rhonda had indeed been paired by Simmons for a book report. Their chosen book? Who cared? It was an excuse to spend another afternoon together with each other!

And as for the venue? Well…Rhonda's curiosity to see Arnold's room had trumped any apprehension she may have had about The Sunset Arms. She had visited the building before, but she'd never been privy to Arnold's inner sanctum. Besides, it was only fair: he'd seen hers, and then some, as she'd just been reminded. Arnold didn't fully divulge these details to Phil, but he did confirm the title of the book on which the report was to be written. That seemed to sate Phil's curiosity, and he left the young couple on their merry way.

They'd barely reached the staircase when they were again interrupted by another voice, this time approaching from the dining area.

"Kimba, is that you?" It was Gertie, come to greet her favorite grandson. However, she froze in her tracks the instant Arnold and Rhonda came into her view. "By the name of Robert Llewellyn!" she exhaled in shock and awe. "Kimba, you didn't say you were bringing home a VIP guest!"

"What now, you crazy old bat?" Phil called out to her. "What crackpot epiphany are you having this time?"

But Gertie had already drowned out Phil's presence as she focused singularly on Rhonda.

"Such grace!" she blurted in utmost reverence. "Such elegance. Such poise." With each description, she took a step closer to Rhonda, until she was directly in front of the now perplexed girl. And in a manner that suggested nothing less than absolute respect, Gertie gathered Rhonda's hands into hers. "It is such a privilege to finally meet you, Jacqueline!"

Rhonda was stunned into silence by that outburst, so it was left to Arnold and Phil to pick up her slack, which they did by asking in unison: "_Jacqueline_?"

"Philistines!" sneered Gertie at the ignorant duo. "Not recognizing the thirty-fifth First Lady when she's right under your noses. Gentlemen, say hello to Jacqueline Kennedy! The most graceful, most elegant First Lady ever!"

"Oh come on, Pookie! You're scaring the girl!" objected Phil.

For her part Rhonda was unsure: was she to be flattered, or was she to turn tail and run for her life? She chose the former option: "Err…thank you, Mrs. Shortman?"

"Oh no, Jacqueline! The honor is mine alone to have met you! I know you'll take great care of the president, keep him on the straight and narrow!"

"Uuh…" hesitated Rhonda in a not-too-convincing display of Jacqueline Kennedy's well-spoken poise.

"Oh I understand!" said Gertie as she released Rhonda. "The two of you must have some presidential matter that needs your urgent attention. Sorry to have kept you from your duties." And so she too bade the couple farewell. But not without a parting shot: "_And keep those missiles out of Cuba_!"

* * *

Eventually, they reached their destination: Arnold's room. And off the bat, Rhonda was profoundly impressed. Not necessarily at the appointments – which were all basic – but at the way Arnold had transformed a limited space into a highly effective lebensraum. Everything reflected his approach to life. Of making the most of one's resources and circumstances. Of not slavishly following trends and fads. Most importantly, being satisfied with one's lot in life.

"Well, what do you think?" asked a hesitant Arnold.

"It's so you, Arnold! Somehow it ties in nicely with someone who wears a check shirt as if it was a tartan kilt. You know of course that I have access to some of the best interior designers, and you know what? I wouldn't ask them to change a thing about this room!"

High praise indeed from Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.

"Now, shall we begin with our report?" This was Rhonda proclaiming that her appraisal was concluded and that the boy whom she _like_-liked had nothing more to fear from her critical eye.

Their subsequent session was marked by studious concentration and comprehension, writing and editing, phrasing and rephrasing. Not much was discussed outside an academic context, but what became even more apparent to Arnold and Rhonda was the joy they derived from each other's company.

They were even treated to milk and cookies by Gertie, who offered them as a "Service for Mister President and Madam First Lady", to the blushes of the young pupils. The task was eventually completed and the two found themselves with some time to kill. They were now seated on Arnold's folding sofa, enjoying Gertie's service.

"So, have you told anyone about…_us_?" ventured Rhonda after a nibble of her cookie. "Even though by now I'm sure everyone knows already," she added with a sigh.

"Just Gerald. You?"

"Nadine. Boy, you wouldn't believe how surprised she was. OK, she already heard the rumors, but she probably wanted to hear it from me directly."

"Same with Gerald. I swear, he always finds fault with any girl I happen to be interested in."

"_Any_ girl, Arnold?" Rhonda asked with some indignation, and immediately Arnold dreaded that he'd made a catastrophic blunder. "And who, pray tell, were these girls?"

"That's…uh…not important," stumbled Arnold. "It's ancient history now."

"We wouldn't happen to be talking about…oh…Ruth McDougal, would we?" teased Rhonda. "How about Maria? I heard how you wowed her with your mad dancing skillz. Really rocked the platforms and polyester look! Or Lila Sawyer, perhaps? You fell _hard_ for her, didn't you?"

"How did you..?" he started, only for the remainder of his question to remain lodged in his throat.

Rhonda's response was to smile and raise her left hand in a waving motion, saying: "Hi. I'm Rhonda Lloyd, gossip girl of PS 118 and its surroundings. So pleased to meet you! Besides, none of these were ever any big secret. You're just so easy to read. You have a habit of wearing your infatuation on your sleeve."

Faced with Rhonda's rock-solid observation, Arnold relented: "Guilty as charged."

"But seriously. How is it with…_us_?" Her tone turned somber. "Am I just another crush, or is there more to this?"

"Well, if I'm so easy to read, _you_ tell me!" Arnold challenged rather playfully. Rhonda turned to study his expression more intently, from different angles. She smiled eventually, then presented her answer. Her answer took the form of her lifting his cap and planting a kiss on his exposed pate, before replacing the cap.

Arnold just shook his head and kindly rebuked: "Sorry, but that was only half right."

"Oh?" queried Rhonda in playful confusion. "In that case, how about showing me the correct answer?"

Arnold reached for the back of her head, which he held as he motioned his head slowly towards hers.

His lips, slowly closing in on hers.

Closing.

Slowly.

Closing.

Irresistibly.

"Hey, Short Man!" Phil's call accompanied his pounding at the door. "Getting kinda late now! What say you wrap it up in there and see your lady friend home?"

Arnold and Rhonda were left heaving frustrated sighs. Arnold spoke for both of them with barely concealed vexation: "Right, Grandpa!"

His intentions stymied and his momentum broken, Arnold turned back to Rhonda and asked: "Well Jacqueline. Would you like a presidential escort to your home?"

* * *

They were about halfway to Rhonda's home when she suddenly came to a halt. Arnold continued for a few paces before reacting to her.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Rhonda didn't answer immediately. Instead, she was just standing, seemingly in deep uncertainty. Eventually, she spoke. "Arnold, kissing you is all well and good, but what I really want from you right now is a hug."

_Wow, that came from nowhere_. Arnold took a moment to break down Rhonda's request to its core components, both explicit and implicit.

_Rhonda…_

_Hug…_

_Public?_

_Suddenly?_

"Well, what do you say?" Rhonda followed up, reinforcing her request by holding out her arms as an open invitation.

_If she's up to something_, mulled Arnold, _then at least there are worse ways to be pranked_. He accepted her proposition and moved within range, only to feel her arms wrap around him too abruptly and pull him in more in urgency than affection. And before he could formulate an interrogative statement, he felt her head press alongside his with an insistent whisper.

"Arnold, we're being followed."

* * *

**And that's Chapter 2 done! Please accept my most heartfelt thanks for reading not only this chapter but also the preceding three one-shots. And to those who alluded to wanting more chapters in your appraisals of those one-shots (The J.A.M., MaryLamb, Orange Ratchet), it is my sincere hope that you will not be left disappointed.**

**Author's Note**: If Helga was Eleanor Roosevelt, then Rhonda _had_ to be Jacqueline Kennedy. All I did was apply some creative logic (which sounds so much like an oxymoron, doesn't it?) to Gertie's thought process.

**And here's this chapter's Spotify list:**

Fairytale - Liquideep

Take a Look - Level 42

Where Do We Go From Here? - Incognito

You Can't Deny It - Lisa Stansfield

**And with that, see you next chapter!**


	3. The Truth About Nadine

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Rhonda visits Arnold. Rhonda earns a new nickname from Gertie**

**So now...Take your marks...set...**

* * *

**3\. The Truth About Nadine**

Despite appearances and mannerisms, Rhonda Lloyd was better adapted for living in the less-than-opulent neighborhood than most people realized, and it all boiled down to how much her parents loved her, as well as her friendship with Nadine.

The two girls fast became friends at Urban Tots and soon were inseparable. Inseparable, to the point where Rhonda threw an epic tantrum at home when her parents announced that they were transferring her to a more upscale playschool in one of the most upmarket boroughs within Hillwood. Four-year-old Rhonda cared not one iota for the other school, nor any of its amenities.

Not for each child having a dedicated caregiver.

Not for the advanced security measures for children most likely to be abducted.

Not for meals prepared fresh daily by a Michelin-Star chef.

Not for a permanent on-site doctor and nurse.

Not even for the superior and extensive range of playground facilities and toys.

"Nadine?" had been the only question from the confused mouth of a frightened toddler.

"_Nadine! Nadine! Nadine! Nadine! NADINE! NADINE! NADINE! NADINE! NADINE! NADINE!" _had been the inconsolable utterances of a kicking-and-screaming toddler upon hearing that she may have to part with her best friend. And when words became insufficient, they were replaced by an almost inhumanly high-pitched wail that would have been the envy of a World War 2 air raid siren. If the rumor was to be believed, the volume, frequency, and amplitude of her tantrum that afternoon was enough to set off five car alarms, and also cause an elderly passer-by's pacemaker to stop.

Her parents relented because although theirs was a materialistic world, they still knew a lasting friendship when they saw one, and also understood the value thereof. A few conditions, however, to ensure their only daughter's continued safety in her chosen neighborhood. Stranger danger was only the beginning, before the security experts were brought in to teach young Rhonda the rudimentary skills in spotting tails out on the street and generally staying safe.

Skills she had just put to use as she held Arnold close by and announced: "Arnold, we're being followed."

"Rhonda, are you sure?"

She had no time to repeat herself. "Look over my shoulder," she whispered. "Across the street, on the opposite sidewalk. Check any alley entrances. _Don't make it obvious!_"

Arnold followed her instructions and scanned the area until a certain figure stood out for him before disappearing into the alley. He informed Rhonda what he had seen. "Seriously?" she asked in disbelief, before releasing him from her embrace. "Let's go, Arnold," she ordered, "and find out what's what!"

She turned around and strode ahead, leaving Arnold behind to play catch-up.

The alley was short and lead to a dead-end, which gave Rhonda the necessary confidence to shout from its entrance: "OK, we know you're in there, so stop hiding! Just your luck to trap yourself in a dead-end!"

"Darn it!" a defeated voice was heard behind a dumpster. A voice familiar to the couple.

"How'd she know we were here?" questioned another familiar voice.

The duo showed themselves from behind their hideaway, much to the astonishment of the couple at the entrance.

"Gerald?" gasped Arnold.

"Nadine?" Rhonda exhaled in just as much surprise.

"What are you doing here?" asked Arnold and Rhonda in dumbstruck simultaneousness.

"Following up," replied their would-be shadows.

* * *

"We knew you two were partners for the book review," explained Gerald.

"We figured you might be working on it at the library," continued Nadine. "Since I and Gerald are partners too…"

"We figured the four of us could hook up and keep each other company," Gerald spoke, almost but not quite over Nadine.

Their audience was the mystified pair of Arnold and Rhonda, still trying to process their best friends' motivations for wanting to tail them. The confrontation/inquisition was taking place within the short alley, away from prying eyes and ears.

Nadine resumed the explanation: "Anyway, we decided to work on our project, since we _were_ there. Then—"

"Then we decided to try looking for you," Gerald was back on the mic.

Or was it Nadine? "Gerald said to try Arnold's place first since it was closer."

No, it was Gerald. "So we arrived in time to see you too leave, and we got curious—"

"Yes, we wanted to see where you were going and what—"

"Enough!" Rhonda's call broke up the back-and-forth between the two. "I'm getting dizzy just trying to follow your story when you keep taking turns."

"In any case," Arnold weighed in. "Why follow us?"

"Yes indeed," Rhonda took over. "What exactly was wrong with calling out to us? _Hey, Arnold! Rhonda, over here!_ And what's so amusing to you?"

She was commenting on how the two were now staring at her and Arnold with knowing smiles. Their smiles and the ensuing silence lingered for a few more seconds, before…

"Did you hear that, Gerald?" Nadine was now turned to face Arnold's best friend. "They're now talking in perfect harmony! So cute!"

"Mm! Mm! Mm!" confirmed Gerald, now also turned away from their now blushing quarry. " Sounds to me like they've achieved a 100% Sync Ratio!"

Arnold and Rhonda's blushes intensified as their friends reveled in the schadenfreude. Even a blind person could see that the short blonde boy and the tall dark-haired girl were wishing that some natural disaster would befall the persons who were close to becoming their _ex_-best friends. Their wishes were not answered – not even _considered_ – as the ribbing continued.

"Hey Arnold," began Gerald. "Is this what you meant when you said you were serious about Rhonda."

The statement elicited an incandescent blush from Arnold, as Rhonda turned to him in confusion. "What? Did you say that? You're _serious_ about me? You actually _said_ it?"

"And why are you so shocked, Miss Lloyd" chimed Nadine in feigned servitude. "You told me the very same thing. How you've never been more serious about a boy."

"She _did_?" Gerald asked Nadine.

"You _did_?" Arnold asked Rhonda.

Rhonda said nothing as her cheeks now matched the color of her sweater. The color subsided as she spoke: "Nadine, how could you?" She now sounded more betrayed than embarrassed. "_I_ wanted to be the one to tell him that!"

"So? He was bound to find out anyway!" Nadine replied also with a note of hurt in her voice. "I mean, you must be really serious about him if he's not on the same three-day fashion rotation you impose on your hangers-on. Even your best friend."

Rhonda's anger and embarrassment quickly faded at that bit of disclosure. She considered Nadine's words carefully before replying. "Nadine, is this because you feel I'm neglecting you?"

Everyone not called Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was taken aback by that question and the consideration implied therein. Nadine, as the addressee, was compelled to answer. "Well, sort of, "she answered, sounding deflated at Rhonda having called her out. "After all, you put all these conditions on what I can and can't wear when I'm around you." Then, with her voice hardening: "But look at Arnold. Same oversized shirt every day. Same sweater, same jeans, same _everything_. And you tell me you've never been more serious about a boy. No offense, by the way, Arnold." The last sentence may have sounded like an afterthought, but she did mean it sincerely, and Arnold nodded his head as a gesture of _none taken_.

"Nadine," replied Rhonda in a gentler voice, "you are now and always were my best friend." As she spoke, she moved to place a reassuring hand on her best friend's shoulder. "Did I tell you," she then looked around at all assembled before continuing, "did I tell any of you why someone as fabulous as _Moi_ is living in this neighborhood?"

Not waiting for the go-ahead, she related the tale of how she turned down the offer to go to a better playschool, move to a better neighborhood, all because of Nadine. Nadine, her best friend now and hopefully for all time.

Gerald was first to speak after the tale was told. " And here I thought I knew all of Hillwood's deepest darkest secrets." Then, specifically to Arnold: "Arnold my man, I guess you were right. I guess we don't know all there is to know about Rhonda."

Rhonda opted not to dispute that statement as she saw nothing offensive in it. Instead, she remained focused on Nadine: "And Nadine, if you want out of the three-day-rotation? Done!"

Nadine's demeanor perked up upon hearing those words. "Really, Rhonda?"

"Really. After all, besties get placed in the same bracket as boyfr—"

And then she slammed her jaws shut before the last syllable could be uttered.

But too late. "What?" a gobsmacked Gerald and Nadine screamed, their curiosity suddenly reignited.

"Well I-I-I what I meant was…" Rhonda rabidly rambled, tripping over her words.

"OK, I think it's time we headed home," Arnold intervened as he took Rhonda by the hand and guided her out the alley.

"Talk to you later," he called out to them as he and Rhonda disappeared around the corner.

The two remaining watched the exit in stunned silence before Gerald spoke: "Did that just happen?"

"Did we just hear what I thought we heard?" Nadine complemented his question.

* * *

The remainder of the walk to Rhonda's house was relatively uneventful. They had left the alley hand-in-hand, and comfortably – intimately – hand-in-hand they remained.

Only when they reached Rhonda's threshold did they relinquish their holds. Even then, Rhonda was as reluctant to enter as Arnold was to leave.

"Well, I guess I better get going," he managed eventually.

"Arnold, I enjoyed our time together at your place. Your grandparents were so…so...interesting."

"If you say so, Jacqueline!" teased Arnold.

"I wouldn't joke about that, Short Man!" she rebutted. "That would make you JFK, and we all know what happened to _him_!"

At that, he could only chuckle, and in short order, Rhonda joined him in laughter.

"In that case, take care…Girlfriend?"

That utterance caught Rhonda off guard. She was at her front door about to insert her key when she heard it. With no word spoken, she turned around and stepped up to Arnold, mere inches away from him. Her stare was intense as if she was looking into his eyes in search of his very soul. Soon enough, her gaze softened as she cracked a smile and replied: "Whatever you say…Boyfriend."

A lean forward and her lips found his for a brief peck.

"Now go home! Your kooky grandparents must be worried sick about you!"

Arnold barely felt his feet touch the ground on his way back home.

* * *

**And another chapter's done; I hope you enjoyed it. ****Special shoutout to Selenityneza for your kind words! In honor of you reviewing in your native language, here's a response to you in one of mine:**

** "**_Baie dankie dat u Hoofstuk 2 geniet het, veral Gertie. U ondersteuning word besonders waardeer._**"**

**Author's Note: **Not whom you were expecting, was it? As if she'd be that easy to spot.

**And here's this chapter's Spotify list:**

_Tomorrow's Girls - Donald Fagen_

_She - Elvis Costello_

_All That I Can Say - Mary J. Blige_

**And on that note, see you wonderful people next time!**


	4. One Percent Love

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Thanks to a set of best friends, Arnold and Rhonda are left with more clarity over where they stand.**

* * *

**4\. One Percent Love**

On a Tuesday, somewhere in an isolated corridor within PS 118, an urgently whispered dialogue took place which partially comprised the following words.

"_Sorry for the short notice but it has to be tonight."_

"_Look, I'm really honored, but it's still rather last minute."_

"_I know! I know and I'm sorry! It's just…it's one of the few nights both my parents are in and I only found out last night and I don't know when that'll happen again."_

"_Well, if it means that much to you—"_

"_It does! It really does! Please say yes! Please?"_

"_OK, I'll see if I can swing things with the people at home…"_

"_Oh thank you thank you!"_

* * *

It was early Tuesday evening and Buckley Lloyd was reflecting. Buckley Lloyd had started sensing some differences in his daughter, and strangely enough, they were all for the better. She was still as fashion-conscious as ever – and to be honest, nothing was _ever _going to change that. Lately, however, he had noticed how more – could it be? – grounded she had become.

Something to do with their stay in the Sunset Arms, he reckoned. Ever since the family's spell of poverty, Rhonda seemed that little more appreciative of her lot in life. He'd recently noticed how she stopped having meltdowns whenever they ran out of her preferred brand of mineral water and would instead pour herself water from the faucet. And if stocks ran dry of her preferred gourmet snacks, she'd happily settle for a PB&J. But perhaps most telling was how she wasn't as fussed with dressing up for two particular visitors. He'd twice seen her wear her loose-fitting tracksuit and prescription glasses when entertaining visitors.

Not that he, a man whose regular ensemble combined tan boardshorts and safari socks with a green blazer, was in any position to offer fashion critiques to anyone.

Anyway, he'd seen his daughter dress down when her best friend, Nadine, would visit. But that wasn't the first time. The first time was when he and Brooke arrive home late one afternoon to find their daughter doing homework, alone at home with a boy. That same sweet boy from the Sunset Arms, whom Rhonda for reasons unknown did not feel the need to impress.

Then he remembered the trip to Aspen after the family got their fortune back. He recalled how Rhonda would still religiously dress up for the evening socials and how she would routinely mingle and flirt with the young boys her age – and some who were older. Only she wasn't enjoying the socializing as much as before, as if her mind was preoccupied somewhere else.

The boy, whom Rhonda reminded him was named Arnold. Could he have been the reason? Buckley Lloyd was intrigued by the notion. Was it Arnold who was so profoundly influencing Rhonda? And if so, how was he doing it?

_Ding Dong!_

The ringing doorbell signaled that he might be getting his answers shortly.

He responded, opening the door to reveal a nervous-looking Arnold.

"Good evening, Mr. Lloyd," the boy almost stammered. His eyes scanned the lounge and found the matriarch. "Mrs. Lloyd," he nodded in polite acknowledgement.

"Oh, such a well-mannered young man!" Brooke Lloyd responded almost flirtatiously. She took a moment or two to inspect his dress sense. Now Arnold was fearing her assessment of his trademark sartorial combination. While she conducted her inspection, Buckley Lloyd chimed in: "So wonderful to have you here for dinner!"

"Oh…thank you for having me." Buckley noticed how the boy was stressing to make a good first impression. But before he could offer any calming reassurance, his wife chirped: "Oh, I absolutely _love_ your ensemble, Arnold," she told him with delight that didn't seem forced. "That boho-chic look absolutely works for you! Right down to the kilt!"

"Actually, Ma'am, it's just my shirt," Arnold explained as he lifted his top to reveal the oversized plaid shirt hanging over his pants. Brooke was unperturbed: "You still make it work so well!"

"Oh, Mother!" Rhonda's voice was heard from the top of the stairs. "Give Arnold room to breathe, for heaven's sake! We don't want to scare him away!" The sternness Rhonda's voice conveyed made it clear to Buckley that his only daughter was making a big deal out of Arnold formally meeting her parents. It was, after all, she who suggested this dinner to her family. It was she who fussed over the menu, worrying less about her own dietary requirements and more about that boy Arnold's preferences.

Interesting…

* * *

Seated at the dinner table, with Rhonda's parents on one side of the table and him on the opposite side with Rhonda, Arnold felt overwhelmed by the courses on offer. That was until he tasted them. From appetizer to dessert, each course was perfect, far removed from what he was used to back home.

Conversation during the meal was confined mostly to small talk.

Was Mr. Lloyd's business doing OK after that spell? _"Yes, Arnold, very much so. We've even been able to diversify our portfolio (_whatever that meant…_) by acquiring a new company in a hostile takeover (_he was regretting asking that question…_). Future Tech Industries (_he'd never heard of them…_). The chairman didn't like it one bit, had a meltdown in the boardroom and had to be escorted by police off the premises."_

How was school? _"Oh, it's going fine. Rhonda and I scored a B+ for our book report on Gulliver's Travels. Rhonda helped so much! She's the one who really made it happen!"_

The starter was really good! "_So glad you liked it! We had the scallops overnighted all the way from Scotland. They were practically swimming yesterday!_"

How were his grandparents doing? "_As good as ever, I suppose. Grandpa just completed a triathlon_ (no mention of Phil finishing stone last or of him almost dying from a stroke…). _Grandma is…well, she's always keeping active and keeping things interesting at home_ ('Jacqueline', for instance..)."

Arnold was finding the conversation easier than expected due to the seemingly easy-going nature of his hosts. At the same time, he was finding it just as awkward due to Rhonda, who under the table had slipped out of one of her shoes and was constantly rubbing her foot up and down his ankle. Every time the parents were occupied elsewhere, he'd look over to a telling smirk from his girlfriend. A smirk daring him to react to her furtive activity.

He was spared that indignity by the time they reached dessert. Instead, however, he was thrust into an equally awkward situation when Mr. Lloyd let loose with the following bombshell: "You know, Arnold? I look at you now and I see why our Rhonda has taken such a shine to you."

Arnold turned in time to see Rhonda react to a swallow of crème brûlée going down the wrong tube.

"Rhonda! Table manners!" her mother scolded. Then to Arnold: "Oh please forgive her poor form, Arnold. But Buckley is right. She was making such a fuss to get everything just right for the occasion."

_Occasion? Just right?_

"Truly, Arnold," the father weighed in. "We've seen her turn down the attentions of boys wherever we've been, across the country and overseas. I remember in London she once rejected the advances of one of the young princes. Then in Monte Carlo, there was that oil billionaire's grandson—"

"_Daddy!_" pleaded a recovered Rhonda Lloyd, albeit also a beet red one.

"Well, Pumpkin, it's true," Mr. Lloyd genially stated his case. "Your mother and I feel that Arnold here must mean a lot to you for you to want us to meet him in such a setting."

His words did nothing for Rhonda's facial complexion; if anything, they made her cheeks pursue all the shades of red the visible color spectrum had to offer.

"You know, Dear," Mrs. Lloyd recalled fondly to her husband, "it's just like when you and I started dating."

"Oh, how could I forget!" he reacted to his wife, before turning to face Arnold. "Let me tell you, Arnold, how I met my wife." Arnold felt a tug from Rhonda, whose desperate expression and shaking head were willing him to say no. Unfortunately, her gestures went unnoticed by the rest.

"You see," the father continued, "I had been a broker for less than six months when I first met this ravishing creature you see here. Trouble was, her father thought I was no good for her. He would scoff at how I, with a net worth of only ten million, could _ever_ hope to provide his daughter with the life she was used to. Well, I showed _him_, didn't I?" Arnold noticed how Mr. Lloyd gradually clenched his fists tighter as he spoke the last sentence.

"I'll admit that my father may have had a point," conceded Mrs. Lloyd. "But we made it work. Our love is what kept us together, kept us going."

Then from the father: "You see, Arnold, our Rhonda is our treasure and her happiness means all the world to us. And if she is happy to be with you, then I won't make the same mistake as my father-in-law and stand between you."

Both Arnold and Rhonda sat bolt upright upon hearing that last statement. Rhonda spoke first, the red suddenly drained from her face: "Daddy, we're not here to ask for permission to get _married_!"

"But you do admit to liking one another, do you?" asked Rhonda's mother.

To which the young pair could only nod in sheepish silence.

And her mother continued. "And how sweet that is!" she swooned, before looking at the grandfather clock in the adjacent lounge. "Oh but it's getting late now. And on a school night, too! Rhonda, could you be a dear and see Arnold to the door, maybe walk him partway home." She capped off her request with a knowing wink to her daughter.

Rhonda sprang to her feet after having surreptitiously slipped back into _both_ her shoes: she'd caught the hint all too well.

"Good idea, Mother!" she continued as she tugged again at Arnold's arm.

As he was being dragged out, Arnold barely had the time and opportunity to thank the Lloyds for their hospitality. "Mr. Lloyd Mrs. Lloyd thank you so much for the meal it was really delicious!" was all he was able to blurt out as he disappeared with Rhonda out the front door.

He wasn't around to hear Rhonda's mother give her unconditional approval of Rhonda's beau. "Such a nice young man," she complimented. "Let's have him over again sometime soon."

* * *

The walk was arm-in-arm, an upgrade perhaps from their normal hand-in-hand.

"Sorry about that," began an unusually contrite Rhonda. "My parents tend to go overboard when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Don't be," countered a suddenly melancholy Arnold. "It's nice to have parents that love and care for you." His tone then changed from melancholy to sorrow. "Actually, it must be nice to have parents that are still _around_."

Rhonda picked up on his change of tone. "Arnold, I'm sorry. I just meant for you to get to know my parents. I didn't mean to pick on you for not having yours around."

In response, Arnold leaned his head against Rhonda. "I never thought that. It was such a nice gesture and I really liked it."

"And I suppose you liked the food, too."

"Last time I had anything _near_ that good was at Chez Pierre," replied Arnold.

"I'm glad, Arnold," Rhonda whispered sweetly as she leaned her head towards him.

Before long, they were at roughly the halfway point. They unhooked their arms and turned to exchange lingering glances.

So much more to say, but Rhonda made do with: "Goodnight, Arnold."

"Sweet dreams, Rhonda," returned Arnold as they slowly moved in for a loving goodnight kiss."

Arnold continued with the rest of his journey, reminiscing over how Rhonda's last kiss tasted like crème brûlée. Unknown to him, Rhonda returned home, thinking of how she would ream on the private chef for putting too much garlic in the lamb ragù.

* * *

**That's it for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. And Orange Ratchet, a little easter egg for you. Just so you know, I also left one for Kryten in Chapter 2.**

**Author's Note:** My main inspiration for this happened way back in 2011 when my sister was preparing dinner for her fiance's (now husband's) parents and her nerves were all over the place with how everything had to be just right for the potential in-laws and how everyone (me especially, for some reason) had to be at their best behavior.

**And this chapter's Spotify list**:

Can't Walk You Home - Level 42

To Love and Be Loved - Sting (with Shaggy)

Inner Smile - Texas

**Well, that's it for now. See you when I see you.**


	5. The Importance of Insects

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**Disclaimer #2: No frogs were harmed in the making of this chapter. As for the human characters, they were on their own.**

**ICYMI: Arnold has dinner at the Lloyds by Rhonda's invitation. Surprisingly, things go better than expected.**

**So, onward to the next chapter.**

* * *

**5\. The Importance of Insects**

This was Arnold's first attempt at the current activity, though the way Rhonda was coping suggested she had prior experience. The duo was accompanying Nadine on another of her bug-collecting outings. Well, _they_ were calling the creepy-crawlies 'bugs'; Nadine was calling them strings of Latin words that would have eluded even the ancient Romans.

All three were knee-deep in a swampy area situated within a forest on the outskirts of Hillwood. All three were appropriately attired for swamp activities, right down to the Wellington boots. Understandably, two of the three were reluctant participants. One was attending as a semi-forced token of solidarity; the other was there to prove once more that she wasn't all that self-centered and was capable of showing interest in her best friend's – admittedly icky – pastime. Nadine, on the other hand, had been in kid-in-a-candy-store mode since they met at Rhonda's that morning for the SUV limo ride. When they arrived at the location, she even saw the chance to issue a stage whisper of a quip to Arnold as they were changing into their boots.

"Hey Arnold!" she'd called while pointing to Rhonda. "See those boots? They're Rhonda Wellington's!"

Blank stares.

"Get it? They're Wellingtons and they belong to Rhonda!"

Rhonda and Arnold's sighs gave all the answers she needed: "Leave the humor to the pros."

Back in the here and now, Nadine was gleefully in her element as she caught and captured, bottled and jarred, noted and cataloged. Arnold and Rhonda, less so. At least they were relieved at having brought along an adequate supply of bug repellent.

"You realize that all of this is your fault!" Rhonda scolded Arnold.

"Sure, Rhonda," replied Arnold, too weary to argue back. Not that it would stop his girlfriend from continuing her accusation.

"Since that time you helped me and Nadine with that insect/fashion project…well, now every other Saturday I've been accompanying Nadine when she goes bug hunting!"

"It's called compromising, Rhonda," explained Arnold in his usual stern yet gentle voice. "And often that's what's needed to make friendships and relationships work."

"_URRGH!_ I hate it when you talk sense like that!" moaned Rhonda, knowing full well that her boyfriend was right.

"It's true," reiterated Arnold. "Look at me and Gerald. He may be my best friend, but we've had our spats and fallouts before. In fact, our last was over you."

"Oh yes," Rhonda recalled. "You did say how critical he was at first about you and me being together. How's he doing now?"

"He's fine. Looks like he's come around over you and me."

"Not that he had much of a choice, did he?" asked a rhetorical Rhonda, to which Arnold nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey, you two!" It was Nadine calling from her position. "Less talking, more collecting!"

"Nadine!" Rhonda turned her attention to her best friend. "Why must compromise with you always involve lots of bug repellent? Speaking of which…"

"Rhonda, it's been ten minutes since you last used the spray!"

"And I'll do it again in another ten minutes! I don't much like being eaten alive by these nasties!"

And with that, Rhonda stomped her path to the bug repellent: her holy grail, worth more to her than the combined GDP of the G7. While she was occupied, with her back turned towards Arnold and Nadine, the latter turned to the former: "So…what do you think? Rhonda and bug collecting?"

"Actually," Arnold answered, "I'm surprised she's here at all. I expected her to run away within the first ten minutes."

"Oh, you're surprised? Watch this," Nadine offered with a mischievous smile. Arnold watched as Nadine reached underwater and appeared to fumble for a bit, before triumphantly pulling her hand out with a sizeable frog in its grasp. He watched as the budding entomologist flung the amphibian with a perfectly weighted throw that saw it land squarely and come to rest on the right shoulder of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, who at the moment was seated and more interested in bug-proofing herself. Arnold would later admit to Rhonda that he expected her to have a conniption of the highest order (as expressed within the confines of a Fifth Grader's vocabulary).

Reality provided a different outcome.

He watched as Rhonda went still, casually grabbed the frog off her shoulder with her left hand, then slowly rose to her feet, turned around and stomped towards him and Nadine, with the frog in her hand and homicide in her eyes. "_NADINE!_" she yelled, holding out the frog to emphasize a point she was about to make. "How many times must I tell you? This stopped being funny after the third time!"

Nadine's response came with unapologetic mirth. "Maybe, but just look who's even more impressed by you!" Having heard that, Rhonda realized that she had forgotten about Arnold's presence and slowly turned to find him with an equally mirthful expression. He didn't dare comment at that specific moment, but he would later tease Rhonda about the figure she'd cut.

Hot.

Sweaty.

Disheveled.

Tired.

Clutching a frog in her hand.

Oh, if only he had a camera!

As for Rhonda…seeing that she'd revealed another aspect of herself to Arnold that only Nadine had previously known…and, well, with him being his accepting self…

She found her initial anger deflating and herself calming down in resignation. She then casually tossed the frog back into the drink, which it hit with an unceremonious _plop_.

"Just one question," Arnold prefaced. "If you don't mind frogs so much, why act like you don't want anyone else to know."

"Arnold," replied Rhonda in a tone suggesting that the answer ought to have been obvious, "who do we know who doesn't just not mind frogs but is totally nuts about them?"

"Sid?" suggested Arnold.

"Sid," Rhonda commented dryly. "Just think of how much he'll be hitting on me if he finds out I don't really mind those slimy…_things_."

"Don't forget Curly!" added Nadine. "Although…he's into all animals."

"Curly..," shuddered Rhonda, under her breath. "As if I'd want to give him another reason to chase after me…"

"Afraid they'll make you jealous, Arnold?" Nadine interjected in a teasing voice.

"_As if_!" Rhonda's answer was maybe a bit sharper than she had intended. She then turned to her boyfriend and continued: "You won't have the _chance_ to get jealous, because I wouldn't even consider advances from _either_ of them!"

Arnold simply smiled and commented: "Nice to know."

* * *

"OK!" proclaimed Nadine. "That's it for today!"

"Are we done then?" asked Arnold.

"Yes and no, Arnold," Rhonda clarified. "We're done here, but we need to move to the next site."

"Next site?"

"Don't worry, you're sure to enjoy it!" Rhonda promised somewhat enigmatically.

The next site was located some three hundred feet from their original location and was also a thousand times removed. Instead of a stagnant pond of brackish water, the new location featured a healthy creek of clear, pristine water that flowed through rocky terrain to create a series of deep, inviting pools. As a bonus, the location also offered several outcrops that dared the brave to jump into the pools from potentially dizzying heights. Arnold's eyes lit up at the revelation.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as he took in the sight. "I thought you were kidding when you told me to bring my swimming trunks!"

So distracted was he that he forgot about the girls, and by the time he turned to face them, he found them peeling off their shorts and tops to reveal a pair of one-piece swimsuits. Rhonda's black number looked as elegant as its wearer, while Nadine's was a teal-and-turquoise combination, in keeping with her usual, everyday color ensemble. If the beauty of the pools were a sight to him, the sight of Rhonda in her one-piece was nothing short of a vision at which he couldn't help but stare dreamily.

He was snapped out of his dreamlike haze when he became aware of Rhonda and Nadine eying him back. In unison, and with no hint of self-consciousness, they spoke a common message with each using different words: "Well? Aren't you joining us?"

Arnold needed no further prompting. He'd been wearing his baggy swimming shorts all day, so all that was required was for him to part with his shirt, socks, and shoes. To the appreciative gazes of the girls, especially Rhonda who stage whispered to her best friend: "See what I mean?"

"_OHMIGAWD!_" Nadine stage whispered back. "You _weren't_ kidding!"

"Excuse me!" called Arnold, mystified. "Not kidding about what?"

"Oh, nothing!" lied Nadine.

"Girl talk!" a giggling Rhonda reinforced.

Arnold wisely decided to let the matter rest, and to the water he took with the girls. Much splashing and frolicking followed, with Arnold even showing off his high diving skills to a most appreciative audience. He was then joined by Nadine for some rock jumping, though Rhonda repeatedly insisted '_no way, Arnold!_'

"Oh, come on Rhonda!" he pleaded for the umpteenth time. "It's so much fun! You'll get such a rush from it!"

"I'm sure I will, Arnold! But I simply don't _do_ adrenaline rushes!" she insisted. "Arnold…_what_?"

Uh-oh! She'd seen his impish grin and deduced that it was a sign of no-good. "No, Arnold! Don't even _think_ about it!"

Too late, for by then Arnold had wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing, Arnold?" demanded an indignant and squirming Rhonda. "Put me down! Put me down right this moment!"

Arnold ignored her protests and fidgeting as he carried her to the most easily accessible outcrop. He did, however, offer an explanation: "Seeing that you got me to come along and help collect bugs, it's only fair _I_ get _you_ to do something for the first time. You know, return the favor."

"Not the point!" squealed Rhonda inbetween her vain struggle to extricate herself. "_So_ not the point!"

She then implored to Nadine: "Nadine! Why are you just watching this? Help me! Get me out of this!"

Nadine simply feigned helplessness and conceded: "Well, he _does_ have a good point, Rhonda…"

"Nadine, you _traitor_!" Rhonda shouted back as she redoubled her kicking-and-screaming bid for freedom. Then, as she looked over her shoulder to see the rock edge creep up closer, she resumed her pleas and demands: "Arnold! No! _No!_ Arnold, are you listening?"

He eventually came to a halt at the edge, over which Rhonda peered to see twenty feet of verticality to the water below. She also felt herself being manhandled into a cradled position. She looked into Arnold's eyes and saw the impish expression hadn't left them.

"Don't worry, Rhonda. You're in good hands." He then tightened his hold and launched themselves off the rock edge.

"_ARNOOOOOOOOLD!_" Rhonda screamed all the way down.

The splash was an almighty one.

* * *

It took the rest of the outing, as well as the entirety of the trip back home, for Rhonda to forgive Arnold.

The journey itself was heavily punctuated by Nadine's incessant laughter at just how much fortitude Arnold had displayed and how much Rhonda had resembled a drowned cat following their epic plunge. Gradually, however, an initially pouty Rhonda began to see the lighter side of her and Arnold's escapade and joined in the merriment, much to Arnold's visible relief.

After they dropped off Nadine, they reached the Sunset Arms where Rhonda had the driver wait for her as she alighted with Arnold.

"Thanks for inviting me along, Rhonda," said Arnold. "It was a really good time."

"Glad you enjoyed it," she answered. "And despite everything, I also enjoyed our time together."

She then moved in to kiss him, only to be stopped in her tracks by the front door opening and Arnold's grandmother exclaiming: "Kimba! You're back! I hope your diplomatic mission with Jacqueline was successful!"

"It was a resounding success, Grandma Gertie!" answered Rhonda, having already figured out how to humor the dotty but loving old woman. "We achieved all our objectives!"

"Good to know!" the grandmother said with satisfaction. "Will you be joining us for tonight's banquet, Jacqueline?"

"Sorry, but I'm expected home right now. Another time, perhaps?"

"It will never be less than an honor to have you over, Madam First Lady! Kimba, dinner in ten!" With that, she disappeared back inside, shutting the door.

"She really likes you," observed Arnold.

"You know what? I'm kinda warming up to her too," admitted Rhonda. "Now, where were we?"

She resumed her interrupted activity: kissing Arnold briefly on the lips and bidding him a good evening.

* * *

Meanwhile, on a rooftop some distance away, someone was observing the interaction through a pair of binoculars. Someone who upon seeing Arnold and Rhonda kissing, became so quietly enraged that she squeezed hard enough on her instrument to crack both tubes and send the lenses flying.

Someone who hissed bitterly: "Rhondaloid…"

* * *

**And that's the chapter done and dusted. Thanks as always for your patronage and reviews. And just for Selenityneza:**

**"**_Weereens baie dankie vir die vriendelike woorde. Ek probeer altyd om die dialoë so vloeiend en natuurlik as moontlik te skryf. Ek is ook bly dat ek 'n saak sterk genoeg gemaak het vir 'n Arnold / Rhonda-paring vir ten minste een leser._**"**

**Author's Note: **This chapter is quite a densely packed one if I must say so myself. Firstly, I've established that Nadine has moved from being the beta in her friendship with Rhonda to more of an equal. Next, Rhonda is shown making more effort to develop her friendship with Nadine. I wanted to convey all of this with as little exposition as possible so as not to slow the story down.

**Author's Note #2: **What about Arnold? I wanted to show his steadfast affection towards Rhonda, again without any lengthy pace-killing exposition. I got around that by showing how Rhonda isn't scared to leave him alone with another girl, even if that other girl is Nadine. Also, when the girls show themselves in their swimsuits (a scene written from Arnold's POV), the description of Rhonda's swimsuit is slightly more detailed than the one for Nadine's.

**Author's Note #3: **I originally wanted the frog to be a rat, but I couldn't find a way to tie a rat into how Rhonda's friendship with Nadine was developing. The frog may have been upset with how he was handled in the chapter, but the rat is threatening to sue for breach of contract.

**And the Spotify list for this chapter is:**

Voices Carry - 'Til Tuesday

Best Friends - Basia

Whipped - Tellaman (feat. Shekhinah and Nasty C.)

**And that's it, Ladies and Gentlemen. Until the next chapter!**


	6. Plans Underfoot, Shots Fired

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICMY: Arnold goes bug-hunting with Rhonda and Nadine. What, if any, unintended consequences could this event have in store?**

* * *

**6\. Plans Underfoot, Shots Fired**

"Whoa, Arnold! How'd that happen to your back, man? That looks nasty! And by the way, you _were_ doing it wrong!"

"Ha-ha, Gerald," Arnold replied flatly. "Ha-ha,"

They were in Arnold's room, Arnold making good on a promise he'd made to Gerald that morning. That morning, a Monday, the two had met en route to school. For reasons unknown, Gerald had decided to forgo their distinctive handshake and instead come at Arnold from behind and slap him hard across the back. The impact elicited a disproportionately dramatic wince from the blonde kid, and Gerald's curiosity was immediately piqued.

"Arnold, what's up man? That wasn't even hard!"

"It's not that, Gerald!" replied Arnold, still in discomfort. "Something I picked up on Saturday."

"You mean when you went bug collecting with Rhonda and Nadine. Something tells me you weren't doing it right! So, what happened?"

"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold hesitated. "I'm not really comfortable telling you in public or anywhere at school. How about my room after school. I have to show this to explain it."

The time was now, as the friends were in the room. Arnold with his shirt lifted, back exposed to Gerald. On the back, a network of rutted scratch marks, punctuated by a bruise here and there. Gerald's surprise was profound.

"You got those on Saturday? _How?_ Those look more like claw marks!"

"Rhonda," Arnold monotoned.

"Rhonda?" Gerald asked, though as he did, he was applying his own prurient logic to put together the pieces of the mystery. His goofy smile betrayed his thought process to Arnold, who angrily moved to cut him off. "Not that way, Gerald. Far, _far_ from that way!"

"OK, then how?"

Arnold explained the rock jumping incident with Rhonda, whom he said had scratched, clawed and hit his back while trying to free herself from the prospect a twenty-foot plunge.

"And they still haven't fully healed," Arnold concluded. "I didn't even feel them until yesterday. Guess I was still on a high from seeing and holding Rhonda in her swimsuit!"

Gerald ruminated briefly over the explanation before letting out a whistle and concluding: "Mm-Mm-Mm, that Rhonda sure has a set of claws on her! But what about Nadine?"

"Nadine? What about her?"

At this answer, Gerald could only look to the heavens for an explanation for Arnold's slow-mindedness. "Arnold, you have noticed Nadine lately, haven't you?" he asked, though he was dreading the answer.

"Why would I notice Nadine?"

Gerald then looked upwards for express delivery of the explanation.

"Have you not noticed how she's…changing? How she's…uh…_developing_?"

"Yeah, I've noticed. But it matters not one jot, for Rhonda's the one I truly love and cherish with all my heart," is what Arnold _wanted_ to say, only Gerald cut him off before he could begin the second sentence.

"Arnold, listen to me," Gerald strained while resisting the urge to throttle his best friend. "You spent an afternoon with two girls in swimsuits. One of them is the most developed girl in our class. And you're telling me she didn't make you want to take a longer peek at her, even a small one?"

"No, not really," Arnold said plainly. "Gerald, what's your point? I thought you already had Phoebe."

And that's how the conversation ended, with Arnold's simple question igniting Gerald's guilt over having impure thoughts of someone other than Phoebe (or at least making said thoughts known out in the open). he stammered out his damage control: "Er, Arnold…you raise a good point. What was I thinking? Oh, will you look at the time? I really gotta go now!"

He then beat a hasty retreat, but not before Arnold politely offered to show him the door.

**xxXXXxx**

Unfortunately, the boys' conversation was monitored. That process also started in the morning, when Helga Pataki happened to be close to and hidden from Arnold as was her wont. She'd overheard the predicament and the promise of disclosure, so here she was. Holed up inside Arnold's folding couch, privy to his disclosure to Gerald.

"So…" she soliloquized. "It appears that the princess has sunk her claws into Arnold! What does he see anyway in Little Miss Spray-On Personality? He can do so much better. _Like me._ At least I wouldn't stop loving him every time I chipped a nail or got a split end! Well, the way forward is now clear. I must drive a wedge between the two. Rhondaloid will go the way of Ruth McDougal and _Li_-la."

While the boys were away, Helga took the opportunity to free herself from her tight quarters and exited via the skylight. As she continued her escape, she formulated her plan. She would require a patsy to aid her, and she knew of just the right person.

* * *

Recess the next day, and Rhonda was in the library. She was cursing at herself at leaving a creative writing assignment for the last minute. The assignment required her full attention, as well as a hardcover dictionary and thesaurus, so the last thing she wanted was any distraction…

"Hey, Babe! What's happening?"

…especially from Curly.

"Curly," she replied, not bothering even to look up from her slow-moving assignment, "go annoy someone else. I'm trying to complete this creative writing assignment before recess ends."

Curly did not take the hint and lingered. "You know, Rhonda, I've got this really good extended metaphor you might be interested in using."

Rhonda still didn't look up from her work as she said in a combination of indifference and repugnance: "Curly, I wouldn't even call what you're offering a dangling participle."

_**OUCH!**_

Normally Curly's skin was Teflon against even the worst of Rhonda's barbs, but nearby observers could have sworn that he seemed hurt by that remark.

"Oh, I'm too _plain_ now?"

And Rhonda would look up at him, puzzled by the emotion in that statement. "_Excuse_ me, Curly?"

"You heard me!" Curly bitterly snapped. "Arnold's more your style now, isn't he? Does he like a little bit of rough play too? Is that why you two became an item?"

Puzzlement from Rhonda. Exasperation. "_What_ are you talking about?"

"_This_!" replied an overly dramatic Curly, as he thrust a sheet of paper in Rhonda's face. "I found this in my locker! Care to tell me what this means?"

The page contained a scrawled note reading: "_Sorry Chump, but Rhonda likes __**ROUGH**__ play! And she leaves __**SCARS**__! Arnold._"

Rhonda went pale at the sight. But before she could proffer an explanation, Curly was back to his ranting. "Look I get it! Arnold likes you and you like him…"

"Curly…" Rhonda attempted to get through to him.

"But I don't believe that someone like Arnold is capable of exciting you, no way!"

"Curly!"

"Only _I_ can do that for you. Only I could _ever_ do that for you, just like only you ignite my—"

"_CURLY!_"

And Curly focused back on Rhonda long enough to see her angrily swinging the unabridged dictionary his way. The reference book struck him hard and true across the left side of his face, from his chin to his temple, and he was rendered unconscious. "That's…my…girl…" he croaked weakly, before blacking out.

The commotion attracted the librarian, who took one look at Curly, decided that he deserved whatever befell him, then left back for her desk. Rhonda then removed the note from his grasp, deciding that her boyfriend would have to be informed of the development. But first, she had a writing assignment to complete.

Besides, it wasn't as if Curly was able to spread the word right now. And even if he did come to, the dictionary was still within easy reach.

**xxXXXxx**

Curly's knockout did have its share of witnesses, one of whom was particularly interested in the event.

"Oh, this is such comic gold! This is _brilliant_!" Helga Pataki began another one of her soliloquies, crouched inside a lesser-used corner, hidden from prying eyes. "Go ahead, Princess Rhonda, put on the brave, stoic front. We both know of the doubt that's brewing inside you now. It only takes a spark, Rhondaloid. Then come the arguments, then the break-up…and then…he'll be all mine!"

"Pataki, _what_ are you on about?" It was Gerald, whose sudden appearance brought Helga's sky-high euphoria to a crash landing. On a minefield. "And who's the unlucky guy you want to be yours?"

_Oh, thank goodness! He only caught the last part of the speech! _

"None of your beeswax, Geraldo!" Helga had overcome her initial surprise and was now in defensive mode. "Sheesh man, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Um, looking for a book. In the one logical place where I'd expect to find one?"

"Yeah yeah! Now find it and move along! And quit sneaking up on people!"

"Pataki, what's your beef? What are you up to, anyway? Does it have anything to do with Curly getting kayoed just now?" He had noticed how Helga was eyeing Rhonda upon his arrival.

"And what if it does?" They both turned to the scene. In time to see Curly groggily rise to his feet, only to be knocked out again by Rhonda throwing the dictionary flush in his face.

"You're plotting against Rhonda again, aren't you? I don't get it, Pataki. She avoids confronting you whenever she can. What's your big problem with her?"

"Drop it, Geraldo," said Helga icily.

"Nah! This grudge you think the two of you have? It's not healthy!"

"I said: drop…it!" Helga reiterated through gritted teeth.

"Can't you just let her be?" Gerald persisted. "I mean, you've seen how happy she's been lately now that she and Arnold—"

"Gerald!" the blonde girl snapped. "_One_ more word from you and Phoebe hears how you think she's not developed enough for your liking! Not like _Nadine_!"

Before Gerald could query how Helga came across that snippet, his blonde nemesis followed up: "You think I'm bluffing? _Try _me! I've known Phoebe longer than you, _and_ she's aware of your roving eye. Try me, I _dare_ you!"

Gerald saw the futility of continuing the conversation and decided that the book he was seeking was no longer that high a priority. He took his leave. Helga, in turn, looked back to her quarry, only to see a still-blissfully unconscious Curly on the floor, but no Rhonda. She'd left during her distraction.

_Darn it, Helga Ol' Girl, stay focussed! Eyes on the prize!_

* * *

Helga was disappointed that for the rest of the day, nothing incendiary happened between Arnold and Rhonda. No finger-wagging, no accusatory looks, no heated words.

_What an anti-climax!_

The worst that happened, occurred after the final bell. She saw Rhonda motion Arnold to one of the quieter niches within P.S. 118. She kept a safe distance, so she was unable to hear any of the dialogue. She did, however, see Rhonda hand the note to Arnold, only she _still_ didn't seem angry with him.

_What gives, anyway?_

Arnold studied the note, then a look appeared on his face as if he'd recognized something. Helga watched him say something back to Rhonda, who then nodded back as if in agreement with what he said.

The two set off together, and Helga tailed them from the rooftops and alleyways all the way to the Sunset Arms. She saw them enter, then made an immediate beeline for the building whose rooftop overlooked Arnold's open bedroom window. From there, she stayed out of sight, but as a result, she couldn't hear their full conversation. Only fragments thereof.

"…not my handwriting…"

"…then whose…"

"…not sure…familiar…"

A spell of silence.

"…something, something…it's uncanny!...something, something…"

She wondered to herself: _What's uncanny?_

Helga decided to cut her losses and depart. Hearing more would have required giving away her location. So on to her escape path. Into the building. Down a flight of stairs. Across the floor to the unoccupied room. Jimmy the lock with her hairpin (_Two seconds, new record!_). Out the window to the fire escape to the alley below. Stay in the alley. Left, right, straight, straight, straight. Opens up to sidewalk two blocks from Arnold's home.

"Hello, Helga. Fancy meeting you here," she greeted flatly.

…To an awaiting Rhonda who just rounded the corner from the sidewalk, slightly breathless.

"R-R-R…Rhonda?" exclaimed the pigtailed one.

"Yes, Helga, me!" said Rhonda while fixing a pointed gaze on Helga. "Who, by the way, doesn't appreciate being followed?"

Helga saw her chance to take control of the conversation. "_Ha_! Don't flatter yourself, Princess! Thinking everyone finds you _oh_ so interesting. Let me tell you, the day I find you worthy of interest hasn't dawned yet."

She watched as Rhondaloid showed no apparent offense to the statement. The rich girl was instead smiling a telling smile. "So if not me…were you perhaps following…_him_?"

Rhonda pointed to the opposite side of the entrance, and Arnold appeared from around the corner to face Helga.

"Helga," he asked in his usual innocent tone, "Is it true? Is it really me you were following?"

* * *

**Oh my, _oh_ my! Quite the predicament, wouldn't you say? What will Helga say? What was spoken between Arnold and Rhonda? You'll have to find out next chapter. And thanks a million for your support thus far. It is really and truly appreciated!**

**xxXXXxx**

**Author's Hote: **Gerald's description of Nadine was based on her character design for _The Jungle Movie_, which shows her starting to develop an hourglass figure as well as a bustline. I reckoned that such developments would not have gone unnoticed especially by the boys.

**xxXXXxx**

**Next, some individual feedback.**

**Selenityneza**: _Uitmuntende raaiskoot, meneer! Ek hoop dat u die rol van Helga in hierdie hoofstuk geniet het._

**The J.A.M.**: You may sense it. The question is...are you correct?

**Kryten**: Hairy enough for you?

**Orange Ratchet**: I believe your feeling was well-founded.

**xxXXXxx**

**Aaaand, the Spotify list:**

Sabotage - Beastie Boys

Physical Presence - Level 42

That's All - Genesis

**xxXXXxx**

**And with that, I bid you adieu. See you next time.**


	7. Feline and Murine

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Helga plots to drive a wedge between Arnold and Rhonda, a wedge called Curly. Things don't go exactly to plan. In fact...**

* * *

**7\. Feline and Murine**

The time was now, and Helga didn't like it one bit.

_Helga Ol' Girl, you've gone and done it this time. You've only gone and tap-danced in the middle of a minefield._

The sad part was that no amount of internal admonishment was going to save Helga from her current predicament: being made and now confronted by Rhondaloid and the Footballhead. And the princess was wasting no time in going straight for the heart of the matter.

_But how did she know I was following them? Arnoldo's too dense to notice his surroundings, so it had to be Rhonda!_

**xxXXXxx**

The truth was that Rhonda had become aware of Helga's presence the instance she and Arnold left P.S. 118 for his home. Rhonda's peripheral vision made her aware of Helga's tail, despite the latter's comprehensive attempts to remain undetected. Helga, for her part, had judged from the direction the couple took from school that they were on course for Arnold's place and had followed from the rooftops, while also keeping within the network of alleys until she reached the neighboring building to The Sunset Arms.

Unfortunately, while on the rooftop she had the sun behind her back at the correct angle to cast her shadow into Arnold's room. Rhonda picked up on that detail from within the room and as she saw the prominently pigtailed shadow constantly fidgeting. The shadow then did a quick about-face and disappeared, whereupon Rhonda spurred Arnold into pursuit.

**xxXXXxx**

Immediately before _that_, Arnold had brought her into his room to show her the pink notebook which he had accidentally acquired some time ago and had held onto since then, if only to marvel over the mawkish love proclamations – all of which were addressed to him.

"I remember that!" declared Rhonda. "You read some of those to us at school! Did you ever find out who wrote these corny poems?"

"Nah, Gerald and I tried but couldn't figure it out. I'm still not sure to this day." Arnold announced. "But when you showed me the note to Curly, I thought there was something familiar about it." With that, he opened the book to no specific page, then held the note alongside the page. "What do you see, Rhonda?" he invited her input.

Rhonda compared the pages briefly, then announced: "It's the same handwriting! It's uncanny! Looks like your crush has advanced to stalking and sabotage." The tone of that last sentence sounded more playful and ominous, but before Arnold could comment, Rhonda changed the subject. "Arnold, the alleys in this block…which exit is furthest from this building?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"Trust me, Arnold. Please, just trust me."

* * *

Hence…

"Helga," Arnold asked, "is it really me you were following?"

It took Helga every ounce of willpower to resist his innate innocent charm. Instead, she was able to double down on her resolve. "Yeah, and so what if I did, Paste-for-Brains? I'm free to pick any route I want to on my way home from school. I just so _happened_ to be going the same way you were! Do either of you have a problem with that?"

"And where exactly does eavesdropping come into play?" Rhonda chimed in.

"Ex-_cuse_ me, Princess?" Helga didn't let her resolve slip as she feigned surprise.

"Oh, I forget," Rhonda countered as she allowed some of her haughtiness to come to the fore. "To you, I'm this fragile princess with no urban survival skills. Well, let me tell you, Helga: I was on to you the moment we left the school. I was on to you while you stood on the rooftop of the building next door to listen in on us. That's eavesdropping, by the way!"

Helga's response was a surprising one. "_Ha!_" she snorted. " Show's what _you_ know, Princess! Assuming – and I'm not admitting to anything – I heard anything from the rooftop, I would have done so in passing. I wouldn't have made an effort to hear what was said. _That_ would have been eavesdropping! And I did no such thing!" She then paused for a smug, gotcha grin for he accuser, then capped her performance with: "See, _I_ know the law too!"

She watched as Rhonda remained unimpressed. "Fine, I'll give you that one," the fashion maven conceded, "now what about the trespassing?"

And Helga's smug look vaporized.

"I'm sure you the had owner's permission to be on his premises, did you?" Rhonda resumed her grilling. "You _did_ enter the property with his knowledge, did you?"

"I-I-I-I.." stammered Helga.

"Helga," Arnold weighed in, "why go through all that effort and risk for the two of us. Aren't you supposed to hate us?"

And there was Arnold's power over Helga, on full display. His soft-spoken disappointment and confusion were exponentially more powerful, more devasting against Helga's will than even the worst barbs, accusations and insults from Rhonda and the rest of P.S. 118 combined.

Rhonda cut in with: "Oh, Arnold, that's a _very_ good question!" She then turned to the blonde hoyden. "Whatsay Helga explains why she's giving all her attention to the two people she says she hates the most?"

Dumbfounded silence from Helga.

Rhonda continued: "Is it curiosity, perhaps? Does she perhaps wish to see for herself how the geekbait Footballhead and the spray-on Princess became a couple? Why don't we show her?"

Arnold would have asked for clarification, but his bid was interrupted when Rhonda grabbed his arm and pulled him over to her for a kiss on the lips that was heartfelt enough for his enjoyment and long enough to provoke Helga's ultimate lividity.

Clenched fists; grinding teeth; harsh, deliberately measured breathing: anything for Helga to maintain her composure. Her mind was processing a Shakespearian amount of English words, all of which were directed toward Rhonda and none of which were complimentary.

"See Helga? That's how it's done, " Rhonda explained. "Same as everyone else. Have we satisfied your curiosity? Or was there something else?"

Helga was ready to explode with rage. Ready to blast them with how she fell in love with Arnold first and thus had first dibs on him that she had not yet exercised. Ready to call out that floozy Rhondaloid for stealing her love god.

Unfortunately…

"_RHONDAAAAA!"_

…or maybe fortunately, Curly interrupted the proceedings as he crashed into the scene, stage left, and immediately latched on to Rhonda.

"_Rhonda!_" he pleaded loudly. "_Give me another chance! One more chance, please! I like the rough stuff! I can get used to it, I promise!_"

"_CURLY?_" Rhonda yelled. "_What are you doing? Let go of me! Get off! GET! OFF!_"

Arnold immediately sprang into action to pry a feral Curly from a thrashing, twisting and shrieking Rhonda. The bizarre spectacle unfolded in front of Helga, who saw an opening to make good her escape. An opening she happily exploited by turning tail and bolting back down the alley towards another exit to another street.

**xxXXXxx**

In some perverse way, Arnold had to be quite impressed by Curly as the latter clung for dear life to Rhonda like a limpet while squirming like a deranged ferret to avoid being forced off of the red-clad beauty. Eventually, Rhonda's bucking and Arnold's strength were able to extricate Curly, though he was still fidgeting violently and snarling inhumanly as Arnold struggled to restrain him.

"Curly, calm down!" appealed Arnold. "What's the matter with you? Calm down, _please_!"

Curly resumed his guttural, bestial ranting, centered mainly around "_Rhonda!_" and "_Not fair!_".

"Curly, _what_ are you talking about!" Arnold made another appeal for reason from the little nutcase.

"Don't waste your breath, Arnold," advised a newly composed Rhonda. "Right now he's too far gone for reasoning. Just let him go."

A wary Arnold responded: "You sure about that?"

And for the second time that day, Rhonda replied: "Trust me, Arnold."

So he did. He released Curly, then took an immediate step back. Curly immediately made another roaring lunge for Rhonda, only to be met by a stream of pepper spray that caught him flush in the eyes and nose. The resulting wail of pain was beyond any human limit as Thaddeus Gammelthorpe dropped to the ground to writhe in agony. His screams attracted sympathetic howls from every dog within a five-block area, though Arnold could have sworn that those howls also carried an undertone of '_Oh no, that idiot's done it again!_'

"Rhonda, what did you do to him?"

Rhonda stood there with a freshly used can of pepper spray, seemly unconcerned about Curly and his plight. "Leave him, Arnold. He'll be fine. He's not yet immune to this batch."

"_This_ batch?"

"Well yes! This is the most potent pepper spray available. It can take down a grizzly in under five seconds and keep it down half an hour at least…and it only works on him for about two minutes. Before long it'll be useless against him."

But before Arnold could marvel at Curly's fortitude, Rhonda suggested: "Best we get out of here before he recovers."

So they too booked away from him.

**xxXXXxx**

"What a day!" said Rhonda with a relieved sigh as they stood at her front door.

"Yeah," agreed Arnold. "And it's only Tuesday!"

"Think it'll get any crazier?"

"I hope not, but…"

"Me too, Arnold. Something tells me there's more in store for us."

"I know," said Arnold. "We're still no closer to finding out who or what set Curly off like that. And Helga…what's her role in all of this?"

"Are you saying you didn't notice?" Rhonda tried to jog his memory.

"Notice what?" asked Arnold.

"How Helga reacted when we kissed in front of her."

"Sorry, but my mind was occupied elsewhere," admitted a now foolish-looking Arnold.

_He really does wear his infatuation on his sleeve_, mused Rhonda. "Arnold, I've got this theory. Don't be alarmed now…but I believe Helga is in love with you."

* * *

_Boy, that was way too close!_

Helga Pataki made it to her room at the brownstone and promptly fell forward, face-first onto her bed. From there, she recalled what a bust the day had been. She'd underestimated Rhonda and her capabilities. And now Helga G. Pataki found herself in Rhonda Wellington Lloyd's sights.

So now she who was Helga was the hunted. And she feared that Rhonda might have caught on to her feelings toward Arnold; there was the possibility that while the Princess was kissing Arnold, she did indeed notice the agitation her adversary was trying desperately to conceal. Worst of all, she'd have to run into the two of them tomorrow at school. And they'd surely be on the lookout for her to continue their Q&A. She needed a distraction, something to set back their efforts.

Something with which to run interference...

_Of course!_ She suddenly remembered that discussion she'd overheard. She could definitely use _that_ against them, or against the Footballhead! She reached for the two-way radio, which crackled to life as she transmitted: "Grubworm, come in. This is Mighty Falcon."

Silence.

"Grubworm, come in. This is Mighty Falcon."

Acknowledgement.

"Mighty Falcon, this is Grubworm. Over."

"Pheebs, I hope you're sitting down. I'm sorry to have to tell you this. Something that I overheard Gerald say to Arnold…"

* * *

T**here but for the grace (and comedic timing) of Curly goes Helga to fight another day. Thank you so much for reading this chapter, and for your interest in this tale of mine. And before I get to my comments, some personalized feedback:**

**Orange Ratche**t: Well, she's dodged this bullet. More will follow; how long do you think her luck will hold?

**The J.A.M.**: I addressed your question via PM.

**Kryten**: Worth the wait, I hope.

**Selenityneza**: _En hier kom die woorde van Gerald om die paartjie se lewens verder te bemoeilik. Hy moes liewer sy bek toegehou in Arnold se kamer, of hoe?_

**xxXXXxx**

**Author's Note**: Throughout the series, I never thought of Rhonda as being afraid of Helga. I saw her as someone who'd pick her battles carefully, and not antagonize Helga unnecessarily or without cause. The one part in the series that made me respect Rhonda occurred during _Phoebe Skips_ where Helga was looking for a new sidekick and was trying out Nadine. The way Rhonda strode up and 'rescued' Nadine was brilliant, right down to her body language that screamed 'Don't even think about it!'

**Author's Note #2**: Incidentally, that scene also inspired me to give my take on the Rhonda/Nadine friendship. I was compelled to ask myself how a friendship was formed that was so meaningful to Rhonda that she was willing to stand up to the class bully for its sake. Furthermore, that scene also made me believe that there was more to Rhonda Wellington Lloyd than we were being led to believe.

**Author's Note #3**: As for Helga, I'm tapping the episodes, _Phoebe Takes The Fall _and _Hall Monitor_, for my portrayal of her. In those episodes, she was shrewd, cunning and manipulative, even to Phoebe whom in this universe she considers more a sidekick than a friend. In this universe too, where Arnold is not around enough to act as a conscience for Helga, I reckoned she'd have even fewer qualms rushing into decisions without first considering the consequences.

**xxXXXxx**

**And finally, here's this chapter's Spotify list:**

Melanie - "Weird Al" Yankovic

Nothing Can Come Between Us - Sade

License To Kill - Gladys Knight

**xxXXXxx**

**And that's your lot this chapter. See you next time!**


	8. Dormant, In Plain Sight

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Helga narrowly escapes an inquisition by Arnold and Rhonda, thanks to interference by a deranged ferret named Curly. Suspecting a follow-up, she decides to muddy the waters for at least one of the couple.**

* * *

**8\. Dormant, In Plain Sight**

"_**Arnold, I've got this theory. Don't be alarmed now…but I believe Helga is in love with you."**_

No way…not Helga! Not the girl who since Pre-K had openly professed her profound distaste towards him! And even if Rhonda's guess _was_ true, what difference would it make? Maybe there was once a chance for him and Helga, but that ship had sailed and to be fair was now probably somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.

Still…

There was some sound – twisted, but sound – logic that lent credence to Rhonda's assertion. It was getting late that Tuesday evening and Arnold was seated on his couch, sprawled across the entire seating surface, deep in analytical thought. Mentally playing back random, Helga-related clips.

One particular event kept standing out: that night she crashed out of the couch to the surprised gazes of him and his guy friends, before slipping out with them asking no questions nor her proffering any explanations. Come to think of it…there was also that time with Lila.

Helga on the couch.

Helga…_in_ the couch?

Was it possible? He scrunched himself on the couch before pressing the button on his remote to retract it with him still in position. Surprisingly, he found himself inside the wall with – barely – enough space to maneuver. He noticed that the sofa didn't fit snugly into the recess, so he pressed the remote again and quickly rolled back as the couch rolled out. Now he was still inside the recess, behind the couch, with much more room to maneuver and also enough of a crevice to afford a 180 peep of the room.

_Is this how it happened_, he thought to himself as he recalled the time with Lila and that fated assignment. She accused him of tugging on her braid (he didn't). He accused her of flicking his ear (she didn't). Then she inexplicably fell off the couch, claiming to have been shoved.

"_**Looks like your crush has advanced to stalking and sabotage."**_

Could it have been..? The pieces were starting to fit, and the evidence was suggesting stalking. But if – BIG, **bold**, _italicized_ 'if' – it was Helga, then how did she get into his room? _The skylight?_ He pondered as much as he freed himself from the recess with two more remote presses. Before long, he was outside on the roof, in front of the locked skylight. He inspected the locking mechanism and discovered that with some finesse, the lock could be prised open without damaging it, _and the skylight could be opened from the outside_. This he didn't know: he never had reason to unlock it from the outside.

More evidence. More _circumstantial_ evidence. Still nothing to point towards…_hey, wait a minute!_ He remembered the yearbook with the autographs. That's '_autograph_' as opposed to '_signature_' and therefore a better representation of a person's handwriting. Back to the book he went to flip through the pages.

_Abigail V. Armstead._

_Jennifer Barnes._

_Rhonda Lloyd_ (He smiled at how she always made a big deal out of the photo days…)

_Ruth McDougal…_

_Amy Ogelmeyer._

_Helga Pataki _(There it was!).

"Well I'll be..!" he thought out loud. He retrieved the note and the notebook and noticed many similarities in the handwriting. Upon that revelation, he felt the onset of shivers and shallow breathing as he realized aloud: "Maybe Rhonda was right!"

But it was late now, past his bedtime. Rhonda and Gerald would have to hear about all of this in the morning.

* * *

While Lila was never a close friend of Rhonda's, the corvine-haired beauty never found anything disagreeable about the country girl. There were occasions when they happened to sit at the same lunch table and have some idle nattering. One such occasion occurred the day after the Cheese Festival when Lila had regaled her with stories of how "ever so sweet" Arnold was and how he "gallantly saved me from drowning", in the Tunnel of Love of all places.

"_**How did it happen? How did you end up in the water in the first place?"**_

"_**I'm not really sure. It felt like our gondola was rocked enough so that Arnold and I were thrown into the water."**_

_Rocked_. That's what Lila had said. At the time, Rhonda hadn't yet fallen for Arnold – it was still that weird period between their first two kisses – so Lila's story was of barely more than academic interest.

_Now_, however.

Someone must have rocked the boat – literally and figuratively. And given what she had figured out earlier today, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd had a very strong idea who that someone was. Which was why she was lying awake in bed, internally monologuing several ideas and possibilities.

"_1) Helga was/is in love with Arnold. To the point where she saw/sees any of the girls as a potential threat to be decisively dealt with. Wait a minute! That kiss in Romeo and Juliet! Now that you think about it, it seemed just a bit too real to be staged. It certainly explains why Helga was willing to displace all the actresses who came before her, even her best friend. Then she went and claimed that the kiss was all part of her method acting, no more and no less. You doubted it then, Rhonda, so why did you let the matter slide? Stupid! It should have been obvious what she was doing in full view of the entire school!._

_However…_

_2) For some reason or reasons, Helga was (still is) ashamed to admit her feelings. And after today's events, she'll be even less than willing to engage with you or Arnold than before. Having a chat with her would be difficult. Unless…"_

Hmm, maybe there was a way around it. She was still ruminating on the idea as she drifted to sleep.

* * *

Gerald on the morning of a school day was never a model of enthusiasm. One could argue that his main reason for attending school was the prospect of spending quality time with Phoebe Heyerdahl.

However, this particular Wednesday morning…

"Gerald, what's wrong?" Arnold chose to forego the usual greeting when he saw his best friend's sullen expression in front of The Sunset Arms. "Did something bad happen?"

"Arnold…" Gerald replied, voice quivering. "It's Phoebe, man, _it's Phoebe!_"

"What? Why? Did you have an argument with her?"

"She _knows_, Arnold! She found out!"

"_What_ does she know, Gerald?"

"What I asked you about yesterday!" Gerald began a regret-tinged explanation. "About Nadine and how she's developing curves."

"What about that?"

"Word got to Phoebe, man! She called me last night! Tore me a new one! Called me a two-faced, lecherous…I don't remember the rest but there were a whole lot of words! Some were even foreign. Italian…or Irish I think. She didn't even give me a chance to say anything."

Arnold was surprised at Gerald's disclosure. "Gerald, how did she find out?" he inquired.

"Ain't that the question, Arnold my man?" Gerald asked back, his eyes suddenly narrowing with suspicion. "I mean, I divulge something to my best friend, in his room, his sanctuary, only to have it blabbed out the very next day!" At which point he began studying Arnold warily. "Now _who_ do you suppose could have put it out in the open."

Suddenly Arnold was on to where Gerald was heading. "Whoa, Gerald! No! _No!_" Arnold pleaded with his hands raised. "I didn't tell anybody about that!"

Gerald was unconvinced. "Uh-huh," be began. "Sure, just like you didn't tell anybody about Iggy's onesie!"

Though Gerald's accusations were fomenting feelings of indignation within Arnold, the footballheaded one was doing his best not to come across as such. Instead: "Gerald, listen to me. What you said to me stayed between us. That I promise!"

"So you told no-one? Not even Rhonda?"

"Not even Rhonda," replied Arnold which helped ease Gerald's state of mind. "That was between you and me, Gerald." He then paused for a bit of thought. "Say…you mentioned the other guys had noticed Nadine. You didn't discuss the matter with them, did you?"

"_Those_ guys! _Hell_ no! Forget just Phoebe; _everyone_ would have known by now. I mean, for all the good it did, because someone knew anyway and now Phoebe knows as well."

"And you're sure you only told me?"

"Arnold, have you been listening? When I said I only told you, I meant I only told you!"

Arnold let his mind go into inductive mode.

"_Phoebe is Helga's best friend._

_**Therefore;**_

_She'd be most likely to trust whatever Helga tells her as truth._

_**Plus;**_

_Helga could know how to gain access to my room._

_She seems to be aware of the space behind the couch._

_**Conclusion:**__ Helga was hiding in the recess at the time Gerald made his statement. She overheard the statement and somehow passed it on to Phoebe."_

Yeah, that conclusion was kinda thin, unless…with he and Rhonda onto her and her shenanigans, was this an attempt at derailment? Involving her _best friend_?

"Hey Arnold!" Gerald snapped him back to reality, thankfully sounding like he no longer considered Arnold a suspect. "We can talk about this matter all we want, only we'll be late for school."

"Yeah, you're right!" agreed Arnold. "We better get going! Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this. I just need to run something by Rhonda first."

"Run _what_ by her, exactly?"

"You're just gonna have to trust me. I'll let you know as soon as I have a plan in place." With that, Arnold began the walk to school, only to be stopped by Gerald saying: "Hey Man, Aren't you forgetting something?"

Arnold turned to find Gerald stood with his fist outstretched, thumb ready for the signature shake.

Arnold could only smile: "Silly me. How could I forget?"

* * *

"We have to talk!"

Said Arnold and Rhonda in unison after they'd exchanged greetings at P.S. 118.

"You first!"

Said Arnold and Rhonda again in unison, in overlapping displays of social etiquette.

Arnold seized the initiative. "It's Gerald. He's in trouble with Phoebe."

"And how am I…how are _we_…involved here?" asked a confused Rhonda. "Does it have to do with what happened yesterday?"

"I think Helga was behind it," postulated Arnold.

"OK, Arnold, I'll bite," relented Rhonda. "Explain."

And he did. The couch in his room. The skylight he discovered could be unlocked from the outside. That one instance when Helga came crashing from within the couch space. The suspected instance of her hiding behind the couch when Lila was over.

"And guess what?" he concluded. "We already know that the handwriting on the note matches the handwriting in the notebook. But it also matches Helga's autograph in last year's yearbook!"

"Wow, Arnold! I'm impressed!" exclaimed Rhonda. "It sort of ties in with what I've been able to figure out."

And now it was Arnold's turn at curiosity. "Really? How so?"

"Remember your date with Lila at the Cheese Festival..?"

Afterward, Arnold had to admit profound respect for Rhonda's deductive reasoning, though he was still bashful at the mention of his disastrous night with Lila, regardless of how much time had passed since then.

"So what we've done is figure out the means and possibly the motive," he concluded, referencing any one of the police procedural shows that he enjoyed watching.

"But you know what would be even better?" asked Rhonda.

"Uh, a confession?" Arnold offered cautiously, now remembering that show with the Deputy Chief in LA skilled at getting confessions from suspects. Though he doubted even _she_ would be able to get anywhere with Helga G. Pataki. Or maybe that emotionally intuitive, if somewhat eccentric NYPD detective who could get under a suspect's skin. Would he fare any better?

Rhonda caught on to his trepidation and offered: "But obviously we can't confront her directly. I'll bet she's laying low right now."

She wasn't, for at that exact moment, Helga G. Pataki, came into view. As she walked by the couple, she made eye contact with Rhonda. Her smug look hinted that even though she knew that Rhonda knew of her love for Arnold, the game wasn't over yet. Maybe it was all bravado, who knew? But as Helga rounded the corner, Rhonda could only concede: "I suppose the direct approach is out of the question, right?"

"There might be a way to draw her out," said Arnold hopefully. He then added: "I just hope Phoebe will forgive us all."

* * *

**And that's it for this chapter, Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you for your time and your interest; it is never, nor will it ever be, unappreciated.**

**xxXXXxx**

**And now for some individualized responses:**

**Zip:** Glad you're on board!

**Orange Rachet:** Well, as you can see, I toned down the crazy somewhat for this chapter. Hopefully, the payoff will be worthy of the setup.

**The J.A.M.**: Which is why I had Arnold step back after releasing the Curly. What's also implicit here is that Rhonda is aware of Arnold's proximity, which is why she unleashes 'a stream of pepper spray' at Curly, not a spray or mist that could probably dissipate towards Arnold. I hope this clears matters.

**yessed26**: _Asseblief, Geagte Leser, laat my weet hoe u regtig voel. As dit u algehele opinie oor hierdie verhaal is, sal u my ander Hey Arnold titel, **In Her Hono**r, beslis nie geniet nie. Maar in alle erns, as u 'n verhaal oor Shortaki wil lees, is daar elders 'n wawye verskeidenheid titels om van te kies. Ek beveel graag AiraSora se meesterstuk, **Let Me Be Your Hero**, aan. In my opinie is dit die heelbeste Shortaki storie ooit._

**xxXXXxx**

**Author's Note**: What do you think? Would Brenda Leigh Johnson be able to crack Helga Geraldine Pataki? Or would Bobby Goren do a better job?

**xxXXXxx**

**And then there's the Spotify list:**

Shoot Out (2016 Composer's Cut) - Harold Faltermeyer

A Little Obsessed - Jamali

Linger - The Cranberries

**xxXXXxx**

**Here ends the chapter, see you next time.**


	9. On Gently Grilling Miss Phoebe Heyerdahl

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Arnold and Rhonda uncover pieces of evidence regarding Helga's methods and motives. Now if only they could have a chat with her...**

**So yeah...go ahead and read on if you want to know what happens next.**

* * *

**9\. ****On Gently Grilling Miss Phoebe Heyerdahl**

"Arnold, what is that slattern doing here?"

While Phoebe was as capable of being angry and doling out insults as anyone else, her vituperations tended to be more highbrow: anyone on the receiving end was certain to walk away with an expanded vocabulary if nothing else. One particular rumor held that Wolfgang had scored a B+ in an English essay solely because he – correctly – used the word 'antediluvian', a word that Phoebe had called him in a fit of frustration.

This time her ire was directed at Nadine.

"Phoebe, that's not fair!" rebuked Gerald. "She's just an innocent bystander!"

"Oh yes! Of course _you'd_ be the one to defend her!" Phoebe shot back at her now-on-thin-ice boyfriend. "Do all 'developed' girls earn a free pass from you?"

"Girl, what's your problem? Nothing happened between us!" Gerald kept insisting as Nadine blushed terribly at Phoebe's assertion.

"OK, you two, that's enough!" Rhonda interjected.

"Yeah," added Arnold. "We're all here to clear things up, to smooth things over." As always, it was up to him to be the voice of reason. It was him and Gerald, Rhonda, and Nadine, with Phoebe making five. The quintet was all gathered in Arnold's room.

The plan was about to be set in motion.

* * *

They found Phoebe in the school library earlier that day. The diminutive girl seemed in no mood for company and made the point clear as Arnold and Rhonda approached her.

"Arnold, I know why you're here," she spoke in calm intellectual dissociation, not bothering to look up from whatever she was researching. "But right now, reconciliation with Gerald is very low on my list of goals."

"OK, so you know why we're here," conceded Arnold. "But Phoebe, didn't you think getting mad at Gerald like that was a bit rash?"

"No it wasn't," insisted Phoebe, still clinging to her stoicism. "I was just reminded of how much of a wolf he is capable of being." Before adding, with nary any emotion: "And I'm afraid that this may be a decisive breaking point."

"I'm surprised, Phoebe," Rhonda contributed. "We all know Gerald isn't perfect. Look, _no_-one is. But Arnold's right. Why don't you want to hear his side of the story?"

It was a rare case of Phoebe being at a loss for words, so Rhonda pressed her advantage.

"Think about it. You're known all over as the one who doesn't rush into decisions without considering all the facts. What was so different about this one? Where was your evidence, your proof?"

Despite her pause, Phoebe remained unmoved. "I find it most untoward, Rhonda, that one like you with a penchant for gossip-mongering would suddenly concern herself with such matters as the veracity of the stories she hears."

"Well, you got me there," admitted Rhonda, while hoping to herself that 'veracity' meant 'truth' (It does, sort of). "But Phoebe, like it or not, we're still in the same circle of friends. And as one of your friends, I've noticed how good you and Gerald are to one another. And for you to suddenly break things off without knowing the full picture…if you ask me, that's the part that seems off.

And before Phoebe could answer, Arnold interrupted with: "Look, we're not asking for you to get back together with Gerald. All we're asking is that you hear him out. _That's all_. Just _talk_, come to an understanding…then take it from there, come what may."

"Tell you what," Rhonda continued. "You can bring Helga along for support if you want to. And we can have you all meet in Arnold's room, away from anyone else."

Indeed, Phoebe's mind was processing the couple's proposition as she recalled that radio call from Mighty Falcon. Helga had been assertive when she informed her about Gerald's – supposed – indiscretion. But Helga remained Phoebe's best friend, always having her back when push came to shove. Still…

"What you're suggesting does sound logically sound. Very well, I'll see you there after school this afternoon. If only to talk and listen."

* * *

So here they were, gathered in the presumed neutral ground that was Arnold's room. Seated on the bed were Phoebe and Rhonda, with Nadine at the desk. Arnold and Gerald were seated on the couch. To the surprise of no-one in the know, Helga had declined the invite. According to Phoebe, all Helga had said was that she had somewhere else to be.

"OK, Guys," began Arnold, "as I said before, we're here because of a misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up. A lot of what's about to be said will be a bit awkward. That's why I'm here with Rhonda. So that we can act as support to our friends. It's a pity, Phoebe, that Helga couldn't be here with you."

"Arnold, if there's a point you want to make, then please just make it!" said an indifferent Phoebe.

"OK then," vouchsafed Arnold. "Phoebe, you'll go first and tell us what exactly led to your situation with Gerald. Then Gerald will have a turn to tell his side of the story. Then maybe, just _maybe_, we can find the middle ground. And if anyone is worried, what gets said in this room, stays here."

"Does that factor in the local gossipmonger?" Phoebe asked while motioning to Rhonda next to her.

"Yes, Phoebe," reassured a nonplussed Rhonda, "even me, I promise." A point she reinforced with an uncharacteristically comforting hand placed on the bespectacled girl's shoulder.

"So Phoebe, you have the floor," Arnold pointed out.

Feeling sufficiently reassured, Phoebe began her testimony.

_About how Helga had called her with 'disturbing news'._

_About Gerald and certain comments he'd made to Arnold about Nadine._

_Comments involving Nadine's '…um…burgeoning anatomy'. _(After disclosing the finer points, she noticed how a suddenly self-conscious Nadine reacted by almost shamefully covering her chest with her arms.)

_About how inadequate those comments had made her feel, what with her own, seemingly stunted development._

_The betrayal through how he was willing to cast aside their budding relationship in exchange for 'instant visual gratification' elsewhere._

By the end of her statement, Phoebe had given in to some of her pent up emotion, though she was still a long way from tears. "Thank you, Phoebe," said Arnold before turning to Gerald. "Gerald, it's your turn now."

So Gerald took to the stand, so to speak.

"Look, I won't deny it. The girls in our grade are growing up and yes, some are growing up faster than others. And I'd be blind not to notice. But Phoebe, if I said even _half_ of what Helga told you I said, I'd be worse than even Jamie-O. And he's the _last_ person I want as a role model. Yes, I was around with the boys when they discussed such things. But I swear, I absolutely promise, that I didn't join those conversations. Sid did most of the talking, so did Stinky. I just…didn't know what to say so I remained quiet."

He paused for a while to size up the audience. Especially Phoebe. Phoebe, who looked like she believed him despite herself. He pressed on; what other choice did he have?

"Then one day I'm with Arnold and he tells me about how he went bug hunting with Nadine and Rhonda and how they went swimming after that. Meaning…my man saw Rhonda and Nadine in swimsuits, so I _had_ to ask him what he thought about it!"

He then glanced back at Phoebe, who upon hearing that last revelation had acquired a most disapproving glare aimed at him. Rhonda and Nadine, by contrast, had started blushing in dread of what was likely to follow.

"But y'all know how slow our guy is about any girl not named Rhonda Wellington Lloyd and how respectful he is about any girl _named_ Rhonda Wellington Lloyd," Gerald continued. "And so I got nothing out of him." He paused again to scan the room, noticing how Rhonda and Nadine were sighing in relief. "Shoot," he continued, "he even reminded me – And…I…Quote!" He then altered his voice in an attempt to simulate Arnold's intonation. "'_Gerald, what's your point? I thought you already had Phoebe_'. And I swear," – he was back to his deeper voice – "I absolutely swear! I've only had you on my mind since then, Phoebe! Me and Arnold, we've never had that discussion since."

He then looked back at Phoebe and saw her belief in him return to her gaze.

"And that's all I have to say," he solemnly concluded.

Silence.

Eyes on Phoebe.

Eyes on Gerald.

Silence.

"Rhonda.." began Phoebe as she turned to face the rich girl. "And Arnold," as she turned to face the footballhead. "It appears not even I am immune to irrational judgments." Then to Nadine: "Nadine, I apologize wholeheartedly for my disparaging comments and I hope that eventually you'll find it within you to forgive me."

Then – without giving Nadine a chance at a response – to Gerald: "Gerald, please understand that my friendship with Helga is an intrinsic part of me that predates my relationship with_ you_. And because of that, I was always more receptive to whatever she'd tell me."

"And that's what she was counting on when she lied to you about Gerald," Rhonda cut in, interrupting a possible reconciliation-in-progress.

Indeed, Phoebe's attention shifted from Gerald back to Rhonda: "Excuse me, but I don't follow."

"Phoebe, you might want to stay seated," cautioned Rhonda. "I…well, _we_," – she motioned to Arnold on the plural pronoun – "believe that she's secretly in love with Arnold."

"Preposterous!" rebutted Phoebe, perhaps a little too vehemently.

"Will you at least hear us out?" asked Arnold, before he and Rhonda detailed the events up to and including the encounter in the alley. Including Curly, whom they reckoned was tricked by Helga into running interference between them.

"So?" defied Phoebe. "It's all a series of coincidences! It proves nothing!"

"I don't think so," countered Arnold as he rose from the couch to produce…

"This is the note sent to Curly that sent him over the edge," he explained as he held the page in front of her. "I'm sure you recognize the handwriting, don't you?"

Phoebe's eyes widened at the note, but – "I…I'm not sure." – she remained resolute in her defensiveness.

Then came from Gerald: "Now come on, Babe. Your eyes widened and you twitched before answering. You know who wrote the note, don't you?"

"You stay out of this, Gerald!" Phoebe snapped at her back-on-thin-ice beau. "This doesn't concern you! Or Nadine for that matter!"

"But Ba—…Phoebe…It does!" contradicted Gerald. "When my best friend might be in a jam, you expect me to just sit by on the sidelines?"

"And when someone starts spreading lies involving me," added an insistent Nadine, "you can bet that I'm also part of the game!"

"And Phoebe, there's more," continued Rhonda as she produced the pink notebook and opened it to an arbitrary page. "See?" she explained as she held it out for Phoebe's perusal. "Same handwriting," she continued as she scanned the writing on the page to an instant blush. "By someone who _really_ has it bad for Arnold."

Phoebe shook her head and kept shaking it as she yelled: "No! It's still just a coincidence!"

"Then how do you explain this?" asked Nadine as she produced the yearbook – opened to the page with Helga's picture and autograph – and brought it closer to the girl genius.

It all proved too much for Phoebe, who wailed in defeat: "All right! _ALL RIGHT!_ I admit it! Helga is in love with Arnold! Has been since Pre-K! Only, she's ashamed to admit it in public!"

Well…it _was_ the confirmation Arnold and Rhonda had sought – even if it didn't come from Helga herself – but all who heard the bombshell were nevertheless stunned silent. But there was no time for a reprieve.

"And how do you fit in all of this, Phoebe?" Arnold asked, not in anger, nor in disappointment, but in genuine surprise. "I mean, this goes far beyond just her constant spitballs, insults and bullying. We're talking about sabotage, stalking, harassment, trespassing, eavesdropping." He then paused to let Phoebe absorb the truth and its ramifications. "Even breaking and entering," he added as he directed her attention to the skylight. "See there? I recently figured out that the skylight can be unlocked from the outside, and I'm sure Helga figured it out long ago. And she's been in this room before, uninvited."

"Then there's the question of how she could have come across the story she fed you," Gerald was back on the mic. "Because me and Arnold, we only had that conversation _one_ time, in this very room! We never spoke about it again, so how else could she have found out about it?"

Phoebe remained as unyielding as she could, as she clung desperately to her intellectual indifference. "Interesting…hypothesis, you two," she wavered. "How come you haven't brought it up with Helga herself?"

"How _do_ you fit into all of this, Phoebe?" Rhonda's repeat of Arnold's question cut right through Phoebe's attempt at obfuscation. Phoebe's rational and logical thought process was no more, effectively neutralized as she now began stammering for an ever-elusive explanation.

Rhonda did not relent: "Because, you know, at the very least you could be an accessory. At worst, an accomplice. Who knows? Maybe even a patsy. Someone to bail her out, someone for her to hide behind then throw under the bus when she gets called out for what she's done."

Phoebe was on the brink of an emotional breakdown at that realization, when suddenly…

"_THAT'S ENOUGH!_"

…a sixth voice was heard, from behind the couch.

It was enough to shock Gerald to his feet, which meant he wasn't along for the ride when the couch folded into the wall then folded out to reveal Helga.

"_YOU LEAVE HER ALONE! IT'S ME YOU WANT!"_

"Helga, we were expecting you," Rhonda calmly announced.

"Well...congratulations, Princess!" Helga spat back with pure venom. "Now let my best friend go!"

* * *

**And that's it for this chapter! Thank you for sticking as far as you have. Wow, let me say that this chapter turned out more intense and dramatic than I had intended, especially for Phoebe. And I _like _Phoebe: she's easily my favorite supporting character. Which is why I had the other characters be sympathetic to her and her situation with Helga. Note that nobody gets angry with her or yells at her because they all realize that she is not the bad guy, at least not intentionally.**

**You know what? I didn't originally intend to have Helga in this 'Rhonda' universe as an antagonist. Her backstory would have been that she and Arnold had never have run into each other in the rain at Urban Tots and as a result, she didn't feel strongly about him one way or the other. And now that you're done laughing at that idiotic notion, allow me to continue. There's this part of my brain that relishes in self-sabotage or otherwise making my life difficult, and it said: "You ***CENSORED***! You're wimping out again! Keep her the same, I dare you!"**

**So here we are...**

**Also, I've lately been binging of _The Closer_ and _Law & Order: Criminal Intent_ – two of my favorite shows of all time – which partially inspired this chapter.**

**I feel the need to inform you that the tone will become more serious during the next two or so chapters, but I do have a comedic climax in place for the ending that I hope will restore balance to the tone of the story.**

xxXXXxx

**And now for some feedback:**

**The JAM: **Mission only partially accomplished, right?

**Orange Ratchet: **Well, they have the truth. But the whole truth? And at what price?

xxXXXxx

**And here's the chapter's Spotify list:**

Domino Dancing – Pet Shop Boys

Tripping – Robbie Williams

Enough – Simply Red

**And that will be it for now. See you next chapter!**


	10. A Cornered Fox

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: The trap is sprung and now Helga may have to account for her past deeds. The question is: are Arnold and Rhonda ready to face the answers?**

**Without further ado, let the latest chapter commence!**

* * *

**10\. A Cornered Fox**

Helga Pataki was a cunning individual. Years of admiring Arnold from afar had made her familiar with most of his habits, quirks and thought processes. In some ways, she knew him better than he knew himself. Case in point: she knew that he and Rhonda would try to reach her via Phoebe. This is why she had hidden in the library when the couple met with her best friend, ready to intervene at the first mention of 'Helga Pataki'. But no, they seemed to be more interested in reconciling Phoebe and Gerald.

_Score! The footballhead is back in problem-solving mode, so the distraction worked!_

She slunk away, content that her work was done. Only…_wait a minute, they asked her to ask me to come with her as support. What's up with that?_

Indeed, when Phoebe asked her later that day for moral support, the best Helga could offer was an excuse involving Big Bob and a herniated disc. After school, the combative blonde girl beat a short and hasty path to the Sunset Arms, where she gained ingress to Arnold's room via the skylight and hid in the recess behind the couch. From there, she bore witness to the reconciliatory meeting, only to watch it turn into an inquisition.

And then they made Phoebe blab.

And the long-dormant, rarely used part of Helga's brain regulating empathy…its cogs started spinning as she realized that _Phoebe_ was taking flak for _her_ misdeeds.

And so…

* * *

"Helga, we were expecting you," Rhonda calmly announced.

"Well...congratulations, Princess!" Helga spat back with pure venom. "Now let my best friend go!"

"Helga?" cried Nadine in shock.

"_Pataki?_" Gerald called out in equal surprise.

"_Helga!_" The relief in Phoebe's voice was palpable as she sprung from the bed, to run over to and tightly embrace her best friend. "I'm sorry, Helga!" she tearfully pleaded. "I tried! I really, truly tried! But they had all their evidence and I couldn't hold out and—"

"Hush, Phoebe," Helga murmured into her best friend's ear. "I'm sorry I put you through all of this. They should have been grilling _me_, not you." She then turned her gaze to the rest of the assembly. "Well, I hope you're all proud of yourself! Look what you've done! Making Phoebe cry like that!"

"Hey, that's on you, Pataki!" Gerald was quick to counter. "You forced our hand!"

"Gerald!" a tearful and now angered Phoebe turned to Number 33. "You mean to say you were part of this setup? How _could_ you!"

In a voice devoid of penitence: "As you would say, _my friendship with Arnold is an intrinsic part of me that predates my relationship with you."_ In truth, he had no clue what 'intrinsic' meant.

"Helga?" it was Arnold this time, hoping to stop Phoebe's and Gerald's squabble from derailing the meeting. "Since you heard what was said…was Phoebe telling the truth?"

"Tell you what, Footballhead," answered Helga. "I'll answer any of your stupid questions. Just let Phoebe go. She was never directly involved in any of the stuff I did to you!"

"No, I'm staying!" a defiant Phoebe countered. "It seems everyone has moral support here. Why should you be the odd one out?" She then followed up with a pleading , expectant smile to her best friend."

"Phoebe, I've put you through enough already. This is my mess, not yours and—"

"_I'M STAYING AND THAT'S FINAL!_" Phoebe was having no argument.

"OK, OK, yeesh!" sighed Helga in defeat. "You can stay!" Then to the rest with a stoic veneer: "OK? I reckon you have questions to ask? Who goes first?"

**xxXXXxx**

"Helga, is it true what Phoebe said? About you being in love with Arnold since Pre-K?" Rhonda led off with her question.

Helga drew a few deep breaths before: "Y-Yes! That rainy morning when he shared his umbrella with me. It was love at first sight."

"For something as simple as sharing an umbrella?" interjected Gerald.

"Yes. It does seem rather…trivial," reinforced Nadine.

"Oh there's more to it than just the umbrella," Helga clarified. "There was also…there _is_ also…" She paused, uncertain whether or not to divulge what she wanted to divulge. Her decision was made when she felt Phoebe's hand on hers, squeezing it in a show of unconditional support. "Uhm…you might not know this, but my home life is pretty rotten as it stands. An absent father, a lush for a mother, and an airhead for a sister, none of whom seem to even acknowledge my existence…"

"And so…Arnold?" Rhonda was pushing for more. She knew there had to be more to it.

"Patience, Princess!" Helga pushed back in subdued aggression. "I'm getting to that part! Anyway…that day he showed me kindness that I never knew existed! Through him, I saw how not everyone in this world is rotten to the core. So he became my beacon of hope, and I fell for him instantly."

"Wait, an umbrella?" asked an incredulous Arnold. "Because I held an umbrella out for you? But then why did you act so mean to me later that day."

He watched as Helga's eyes took on a steely glint. "Believe it or not, Footballhead," she answered calmly despite her expression. "None of that was ever your fault. All of that is on Harold…and her!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Rhonda.

"Me?" squawked Rhonda.

"Yes, you, Princess! You and Harold were the ringleaders making fun of me for being in love with Arnold. You're the ones who made me ashamed!" – Her breathing was starting to become hitched – "_You're _the ones who made me become the rough and tough girl I am now!"

Silence entered the room as its occupants paused to digest what had just been said. Phoebe gave Helga's hand another squeeze, a token of how proud she was of the blonde girl's bravery so far. The rest also appeared to be showing sympathy.

Except…

"Helga, that doesn't make sense!" rebutted Arnold. "If you became so much tougher to handle their teasing, what was stopping you from approaching me back then? I mean, if you knew that no-one would tangle with you if you did…"

He asked in his usual soft-spoken voice with no anger or disappointment whatsoever. Rendering her powerless with his inquiring green eyes: her kryptonite. "I…I-I…I…don't know," she stuttered.

"He raises a good point, Helga," contributed Nadine. "You could have made a move on Arnold – or anyone – and the rest of us would have been too scared to say anything against it."

The look of regret that crept into Helga's expression did not go unnoticed. It stayed there until she countered it by shaking her head in denial. "No, you wouldn't!" she snarled. "You'd have taken me for a weakling! _All _of you!"

"Oh Helga, _stop_ it!" snapped Rhonda. "You're just making up excuses."

"Oh, like _you're_ one to talk, Princess! How many kids know of your brief fling with Harold? You know, _Lard Boy_!"

Rhonda was unaffected. "To be really honest? I don't care," she responded with an aura of calm. "It'll be nothing compared to what the stuck-up kids in my family's social circles have said about me being Arnold's girlfriend, or even friends with you guys. How I've _'lowered my standards'_. How I'm _'going out with the help'_. How I'm _'friends with common folk'_. None of that bothers me, because I really do consider all of you my friends, my_ good _friends…and because," – and her face became slightly flushed, despite herself – "I love Arnold!"

"OK, we get it!" Gerald inserted himself back into the conversation. "But Pataki, how do you explain the stalking, sabotage, etcetera and so on?"

And once more, Helga's resolve was deflated: she had no answer.

But Phoebe did. "Given how conflicted she was feeling at the time, can you really blame her for choosing her courses of action?"

"Even if she was breaking the law?" It was Arnold again, this time with some sharpness in his voice. "Following me around? Breaking into my home? _Spying_ on me?" – The sharpness was rising – "While openly telling me how much she hated me, no matter how kind I was to her?"

Arnold then turned his attention back to Helga. "Helga, is that love? Is that even _being_ in love? And let me guess. Was it you that interfered with me and Lila during our project? Or how about" – He recalled Rhonda's speculation of the topic – "ruining our date at the Cheese Festival? Were _those_ because of love?"

A lesser person would have caved in at the accusation. Helga was no lesser person; she opted to double down. "Yeah, for all the good it did me! You still ended up with Rhonda! What on earth did you see in her, anyway?"

"Helga…how _dare_ you..?" His tone was still soft, but his anger and disappointment were mounting, enough to give his former tormentor – and the rest of the gathering – pause for thought. "But if you _must_ know, I saw something deeper in Rhonda. Something about her, something more than just the rich girl that everyone sees on the surface, that I fell for, that I was willing to take a chance on."

Helga desperately moved to interrupt, but…

"Helga! Still talking!" Arnold motioned in a voice not to be denied. "Do you know what the really sad part is? I was willing to give you a chance long ago. I believed in you too, that the bullying you was all an act and that deep inside you really were a kind and caring little girl. Now I get to hear all of this which you and even your best friend" – he pointed at Phoebe – "think is all for a good reason!" Then, looking again at Helga: "Helga, I always believed in the best in you, no matter what you said and did. But now," – His tone changed from anger to disappointment – "Now? I'm not sure anymore. I'm even starting to think I was wrong about you."

"Arnold, that's not fair!" an angry Phoebe snapped.

"_Is it_, Phoebe?" asked Arnold, to which everyone not named Helga or Phoebe nodded. "Tell me then, how is it fair that she gets to tell the whole world how much she hates me, wants nothing to do with me, while deliberately wrecking my chances with other girls? Lila, I know about. What about Ruth McDougal? And just now she tried to drive Curly between me and Rhonda!" His anger was now mounting as he struggled to remain in control. Realizing the anger was misguided, he turned back to Helga. "Helga, what was going through your mind while you tormented me? I mean, you hated me when I was around you. Now I find out you hated me even when I was with other girls. What did you want from me, Helga? _WHAT?_ What would I have to do before you were satisfied?"

He was angry in a way he hadn't expected to be, and he didn't like it. Neither did Rhonda as she moved in with a comforting arm around his waist and a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Arnold," she said soothingly. "Take a few deep breaths. You'll feel better, I promise."

Rhonda took over from him and focussed on Phoebe, who with Helga stood almost petrified in the face of the wrath and emotion that Arnold could summon.

"Phoebe, tell me this. What was your role in all Helga's actions."

"I _told_ you to leave her out of this!" shouted Helga again, her will strengthened upon realizing that she was no longer dealing with Arnold and his angered state. "Yes, she knew of my feelings for Arnold, but she never took part in any of my schemes. I told her nothing, even when I made her cover for me or bail me out after the fact. If anything, I _forced_ her to do whatever she did."

"So she was only good so long as she was useful to you?" Nadine asked.

"_No_!" insisted Helga. "She's my friend. She's my _best_ friend and I won't see her go down for my mistakes!"

"Helga?" Phoebe trained a quizzical look upward at her friend.

"You know what? _That's enough from all of you!_" proclaimed Helga emotionally. "You got what you wanted to know! You heard what you wanted to hear! Now you know how I felt about Arnold! And you know how and why I acted on it! And _I_ now know it was never going to work! And don't worry," – bitterness was seeping into her emotion – "you want me to leave you alone, to leave you be? _You got it!_ Consider me out of your hair for good from this moment on, Arnoldo!"

Angrily she yanked herself free from Phoebe and angrily she stomped out of the room. The eagle-eyed among the assembled noticed her flowing tears as she made her storming exit. That left Phoebe to face the instigators.

"Phoebe," ventured Gerald. "I'm so sorry that we had to use you to get to Helga and—"

"Go to Hell, Gerald!" Phoebe spat back at him, to his utmost shock and that of the others. She then turned to the others, sized them up, and then: "Go to Hell, _all_ of you!"

Then she too barged out of the room. That left the original quartet to mull silently over what had just transpired. Gerald was first to break the silence: "Was that a win for us? Because I'm not so sure."

* * *

**Not exactly mission accomplished, is it? There's still loads of smoothing over to be done! And actually this is more in line with how I see the friendships in Hey Arnold, or indeed in any work of fiction. A circle of friends is not a modular structure where one can chop and change character loyalties while the structure as a whole remains unaffected. It is more akin to a closed dynamic system that has achieved a state of equilibrium. Disturb even one aspect, and the system is thrown into disarray until a new equilibrium is achieved. So when I decided not to change Helga's backstory to this tale, I realized that I had an opportunity to explore some of the most significant consequences of pairing Arnold with Rhonda instead. I do have a vague idea of what the new normal will be...**

**Staying with Helga, I was never going to have her break down into a blubbering confession. Of course there'd be tears, but something really extreme would have to happen for that, and she'll be doing her best to mask them. Plus...she's too strong and too stubborn for any blubbering breakdown to be believable. So if she was going to confess, it would be on her terms and not Arnold's or anyone else's.**

**By my estimate, 2 or 3 chapters remain in this tale. I hope to lighten the tone somewhat in the final chapters. I tried, I really tried, but setting the previous two chapters as a comedy would have robbed them of their emotional punch. Notice how I changed the one genre from 'Romance' to 'Drama' just to take this and the previous chapter into account.**

xxXXXxx

**And so we go to the reviewer's comments.**

**Kryten**: Did you say something about intense..?

**The JAM**: Glad you were eager for this chapter!

**Orange Ratchet**: Just in time for inclusion! As I type this sentence, 21 minutes have elapsed since your review came through! Did you say something about a backlash..?

xxXXXxx

**And here be this chapter's Spotify list**:

Don't Look Around – Aswad

Taken In – Mike & The Mechanics

To Face The Truth – Pet Shop Boys

**And that will be it for this chapter. Please review, and see you next chapter!**


	11. A Way Forward

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: They've partly gotten what they sought, but at what cost?**

**Well, let's find out!**

* * *

**11\. A Way Forward**

Despite his reputation to the contrary, Arnold had made his share of boneheaded decisions in the past, often to disastrous results. He was hoping not to repeat that cycle in this, his latest endeavor. Here he was, doing to Helga the worst of the activities she had done to him. The activities which he had condemned in no uncertain terms.

For the rest of the previous week, Helga Pataki had made good on her promise declared in Arnold's room. True to her word, she had ceased bothering him. No spitballs. No insults. No dirty looks. No overt outbursts of her odium onto him. No snark or disparagement towards him and Rhonda as a couple. Even Curly had backed off from Rhonda, which in light of Helga's promise could not have been a coincidence. The new peaceful status quo should have been all he and Rhonda could have hoped for.

Only one problem…Helga looked miserable the whole time. OK granted, she was not known for her _joie de vivre_, but she always had an aura of living her life on her own terms. And for the rest of the week, that aura had been missing.

This wasn't right. This wasn't _Helga_.

The following week, Monday morning at school and he was discussing the topic with Rhonda. The following discussion ensued:

"_**Arnold, this isn't Pre-K anymore! Helga's a big girl! She'll have to learn to deal with her issues without you rushing in to save her."**_

"_**Rhonda, hear me out first! Have you seen how miserable she's become?"**_

"_**All due respect, that's not our problem. She got a dose of reality in your room. She must learn how to deal with it!"**_

"_**But don't you think we could have been a bit more…uhm…subtle about it?"**_

"_**Did you think about that before or after you blew up on her?"**_

"_**I lost my temper for a bit! I didn't blow up on her!"**_

"_**Sure you didn't! Arnold, don't lie! You hurt her that day like she's never been hurt before. You think she wants to hear whatever you have to say to her?"**_

"_**But look at her! She's not in a good place right now!"**_

"_**Arnold, listen! It's not that I don't feel sorry for her but think this through! There's nothing we can do! You go and offer her your help, what do you think will happen? She'll just reject you. She's too proud to admit that she needs help. She'll have to figure this out on her own!"**_

That's where they left the matter, as they were interrupted by the school bell. The day passed by uneventfully, which Arnold still found disturbing. _No more_, he resolved by the end of school. He had to check up on her, make sure she was fine.

This is where he currently found himself: tailing Helga after school on Monday afternoon. He'd parted ways with Rhonda at the school entrance. Then, once sure that Rhonda was out of sight, he'd changed course and motored after Helga. Once Helga came into his sight, he maintained a safe following distance while staying undetected. Rhonda had taught him some of the tricks she'd been taught on tailing and spotting tails, and now he was applying his limited knowledge, more in hope than in expectation.

Despite his best efforts, he remained undetected.

Eventually, she appeared to have reached her destination. And brother did it stand out! It was a three-storied building, whose color he was certain Rhonda would describe as 'the gaudiest mauve eyesore and a crime against the sense of sight'. On it was a prominent sign identifying it as 'Hillwood Medical Centre'. _Hmm, what would she be doing here?_

Seeing that Helga had passed through the lobby, he ventured inside. There he found the list of all the practicing specialists and began scanning the listing.

_Now, which one could she be seeing?_

'DR. I. KATZEBOLSOV – FAMILY PLANNING SPECIALIST'. _Nope._

'DR. M.B. DYSON – PROSTHETICS SPECIALIST'. _Not him_.

'DR. H.L. JONES – GENERAL PRACTITIONER'. _Not likely._

'DR. R. QUINCY – PATHOLOGIST'. _No!_

'DR. C. BLISS – PEDIATRIC PSYCHOLOGIST'. _Hmm, maybe..?_

And he could have left it at that. He _should_ have left it at that. But he was Arnold Philip Shortman, a boy who once defied Big fricking Gino for the sake of his friend Gerald, and by golly was he going to get to the bottom of this!

"Arnold? What are you doing here?" It was Helga, exiting the ladies' room. Her tone was one of surprise overriding anger. And with her proclamation, Arnold's resolve shriveled up and vanished.

"Uhhh…hi, Helga!" he stammered. "It's just…um…what I mean is…"

"What you mean is you've noticed how subdued I was last week," she offered matter-of-factly with no anger to be heard, "and you being you, decided to tail me to get to the bottom of this. How'm I doing so far?"

Arnold could only nod in shamefaced admission.

"And in doing so, making yourself guilty of the selfsame thing you sought to accuse me of in your room the other day!"

"Can you blame me?" he shot back. "You weren't yourself all week and I wanted to make sure everything is still fine with you."

"Well…" she began prosaically. "As you've probably figured out by now, I'm here to see the shrink."

"You mean Doctor Bliss?"

"That's me!" Arnold turned around to see the source of the voice. It was a woman descending the staircase. Arnold recognized her from her previous visit to his classroom all those months back. She was wearing the same mauve skirt-and-jacket combo from before, and her dark brown hair was the same short, elegant cut. "Don't mind me. My patient seemed to be running late, so I came down to check if she was in the lobby having second thoughts."

Arnold then watched as her gaze toward him became more quizzical. "Foot…footballhead…Arnold! You're Arnold, right?"

"Er, yes Ma'am...er, Doctor!" Arnold realized too late that he could have answered that basic question a lot better.

Nonetheless, he saw a smile creep on the doctor's visage. "One moment, please," she said to him before moving over to Helga and whispering to her in a huddle. He couldn't hear what the doctor was saying, but he could definitely hear Helga's responses.

_Doc, are you crazy?_

_No way!_

_I don't care if it is a good idea or not! It's still dumb!_

_For one, he already has a girlfriend!_

_Well…yeah, I do want to move forward…_

_No, he won't blab. He's too nice to—_

_Oh alright! Let's just get the stupid session over with!_

* * *

That's how Arnold found his way to participating in Helga's session with Doctor Bliss. Seated next to her on the couch, he'd thus far learned:

1) How Helga started seeing Doctor Bliss after the doctor's visit to PS 118, and

2) How she'd stop showing up for appointments after the third session, but not before,

3) She'd painted the rosiest possible picture of him.

Furthermore, he'd heard how after his rejection, she'd stormed out of his room, then gone home to lock herself in her room to bawl uncontrollably. _Fine_, she reckoned once she was done crying, _if he wants smooth sailing with Rhonda then smooth sailing he'll get_.

From the next day onward, motivated more by spite than contrition, she set about righting all wrongs. No spitballs, no bullying, and so on and so forth. Somewhere she also found the time to get Curly to back off from the couple in a process that _might_ have involved her dangling him from the roof of PS 118 by his ankles.

But through all these acts of angry contrition, something happened. She remembered her past sessions with Doctor Bliss, particularly the one in which she was cautioned on how she was outwardly – and unfairly – projecting all her anger towards Arnold. It got her thinking.

About how she always thought her happiness lay with Arnold, and yet she had done nothing but push him away. About when he finally made his choice with Rhonda, and how Helga had treated him poorly for it, thus regressing back to her old delusional ways. How after only three sessions, she felt sufficiently armed to confess her feelings to Arnold.

But…Rhonda.

"Doctor," said Arnold, "from what I gather, Helga stopped seeing you at around the time me and Rhonda made our feelings known to each other. And then after I rejected her the other day, she decided it would be better to leave us be and eventually focus on herself inside. And so she booked another session with you last week for today?"

"Oh, you got _that_ right, Bucko!" Helga interrupted. Her surprise at his presence was long gone, replaced by an enmity that didn't seem as severe as it could have been. "All that past effort to bring me in touch with my _fee-e-lings_, only to watch it all go down in flames!"

"So this was about me, Helga?" asked Arnold.

"Well, doi!" Helga no longer saw the need to lie to him. "I always thought that I could somehow become this better person that would be more to your liking. I reckoned that's what you wanted, for me to be your nice, 'ideal' person. But then…Rhonda!"

"Listen, Helga," Arnold began with a strict tone without sounding harsh. "I won't apologize for being with Rhonda and not you. But—"

"And yet you still followed me here!" interrupted Helga. "This, from the boy who blew up on me for doing the same to him. What's the matter, Angus Young? You saying you want me to go back to my old tricks?"

Arnold did not blow up on her; he remained composed. "From what you said, all your previous visits here were about me. About how _you_ saw _me_ as an ideal of sorts. I'm sorry Helga, but you know more than most that I'm far from that person. I have my demons too that I'm wrestling with. I just can't _always_ be that person you want me to be. I can't always be that little boy from Pre-K who held the umbrella for you in the rain."

"So what makes Rhonda so special, Arnold?"

"Honestly? It's because she's more open with me. Yeah, I know…'snobby rich girl, right?" – Helga flinched at being beaten to that punch – "Still, she accepts me for who I am. She doesn't have this…I don't know, this unrealistic vision of me that I can't possibly live up to. And that just makes me truly happy when I'm with her."

All the while, Doctor Bliss hadn't asked the pair a single question. She was simply taking notes on what she was hearing, content to let the children do all the talking, for now.

"Well, excuse me for putting you on a pedestal, Mister Salt-of-the-Earth!" Helga scolded as she felt her anger well.

"So you hate me now?" Arnold queried – reverting to his stern voice – which immediately put paid to the blonde girl's ire. "You want nothing to do with me? Why's it always have to be love or hate, all or nothing with you? With nothing inbetween."

That bit of insight caused the doctor to perk up as she eagerly awaited Helga's answer. She could see how conflicted her patient was about providing an answer as if wounds long believed to have healed, were at risk of being reopened.

"Because…" Helga reluctantly began.

_Come on Helga, you can do it!_ Doctor Bliss was silently egging her on.

"_Because, Footballhead, that's all I've ever known! On and off! All or nothing! All the love for Olga, none for me! All the attention! All the approval! And none for poor little underachieving Helga! That's just how the world works!_" – Suddenly the tears she thought she could no longer cry, were threatening to return – "_If you're worthy, you get it all! Otherwise, who the hell are you? You're nothing! You're less than nothing and nobody cares!_"

The sudden outpouring caught Doctor Bliss unawares. _Oh no_, she fretted internally, _I've let this go too far!_ But before she could intervene, she witnessed how Arnold placed a hand on Helga's shoulder, which soothed the patient in no time. Seeing that the boy had more to say, she decided to hold back and see where it all would go.

"But _I_ care, Helga!" affirmed Arnold. "Despite everything, I still consider you a good friend. One of my best friends."

"But you're with Rhonda," she countered weakly, almost pathetically.

"So? It doesn't mean you don't exist to me anymore. How can I forget the kind and caring person you really are? Look, I apologize for going off on you, but understand…_please_ understand…that what you saw wasn't anger or hatred. It was disappointment. And, well…I hope that the caring you…the _real_ you, the _true_ you…can come back one day and stay with us all. Believe me, I'll be waiting for that day!"

_This boy's good_, noted Doctor Bliss, _but now it's my turn_.

"OK, Arnold," she proclaimed. "Thank you so much for sitting in and taking part in this session. You've been really helpful, but I'll be taking it from here."

"Err, my pleasure, Doctor Bliss," Arnold replied, unsure of how significantly he'd really contributed to the session.

"Oh, and Arnold? These sessions are meant to be confidential. Please treat it as such." Behind the doctor's calm and professional tone lurked a dread that she had committed a gross HIPAA violation and that one errant word could land her in trouble. Even if the ends did justify the means.

Arnold noticed none of her frettings. However as he turned back at the door to say his goodbyes, he did notice how the doctor was passing a box of Kleenexes to Helga.

_I guess it's a start_, he thought as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

It was only during the walk home that Arnold realized how spent he was mentally. He arrived at the boarding house to find his grandmother preparing dinner.

"Hello, Grandma," he greeted courteously, if not particularly enthusiastically.

"Kimba!" Gertie's greeting more than made up for his lacking enthusiasm. "Welcome home! Oh, and you have a guest waiting for you in your office. I told them I wasn't sure when you'd be back, but they absolutely _insisted_ on waiting."

"Thanks, Grandma," acknowledged Arnold before trudging up the stairs to his room, where he found…

"Didn't I tell you she's a big girl now?"

It was Rhonda doing her homework at his desk, not even looking up at him as he entered.

"You followed her, didn't you?" she continued, still not looking at him. "All the way to the medical center, where you found out she's started seeing a shrink. Am I right or am I wrong?" Throughout her speech, she never sounded accusatory or even disappointed: it was as if she had long predicted what he would do that afternoon.

"How did you know?" he responded to her questions with one of his own. "And…_how_ _did you know?_"

"You followed her, I followed _you_. Your technique's improved, by the way, but you'll never top me. Anyway, I saw you talk to her in the lobby, then the doctor joined you. Next thing I see, you're all heading up the stairs. By the way, that's where I found a listing for 'DR. C. BLISS – PEDIATRIC PSYCHOLOGIST'. I reckoned you weren't there for the family planning…"

"Yeeeah," he hesitated, "the doctor thought it would be a good idea if me and Helga could talk out our issues during the session."

At that, Rhonda _finally_ looked up from her homework to face Arnold.

"And don't bother asking about what was spoken!" he added rather hastily. "Helga trusted me with her deepest thoughts, and I'll keep them between us and Doctor Bliss."

He was expecting Rhonda to be disappointed, even angry, at being denied some primo, juicy gossip fodder. Instead, he watched as she stood up, moved to the bed and sat there. She then patted next to her, a motion for him to take a seat. Which he dutifully did.

"Arnold," she began, "you should trust her then, the way she trusted you. Trust that she'll find her way to recover without having to depend on you. Believe me," – She placed her hand on his with this sentence – "I want her to move on with her life and be happy just as much as you do."

Arnold did a double-take upon hearing that remark, to which Rhonda replied: "Why the surprise? I don't hate her, never did, no matter how heated we could get!"

Arnold decided that the matter regarding Helga had reached its conclusion, so he broke free of Rhonda's hand and instead wrapped the arm around her waist and pulled her tightly towards him. She accepted his gesture and rested her head on his shoulder. Arnold broke the silence after a minute or so with: "Say, Rhonda, you want to stay for dinner?"

"_**SHE ALREADY SAID YES!**_" his Grandmother shouted all the way from the kitchen.

Arnold stayed with Rhonda: "Oh? Are your folks fine with it?"

"_**ALREADY CALLED THEM! THEY SAID YES!**_" it was Grandma again. "_**WE EAT IN AN HOUR!**_"

"An hour, heh?" he was still with Rhonda. "How are we going to kill an hour?" Then he sought to answer his question by closing in on her ever kissable lips, only to be met at the last moment by two of her fingers pressed on _his_ lips.

"We could always do the Math homework Simmons gave us today," she suggested slyly.

"Ooooh, fine," sighed Arnold. "But can I please have five minutes? Sitting in that doctor's office must have drained me some. Can I just lie down for a bit?"

Rhonda nodded, not realizing that he'd then swing his legs onto the bed, then lower his back on the mattress his head onto her lap. And before she had time to be surprised, she heard him whisper: "Thanks, Rhonda. You're awesome!"

Well, yeah, of _course_ she was. Her flatterer of a boyfriend had tricked her into this position, but she didn't begrudge him his respite as she ran her fingers through his blonde locks, twirling and teasing lovingly.

"Helga was right," she admitted. "You are _such_ a footballhead. And your five minutes starts _now_!"

* * *

**And that's it for this chapter. Thank you, one and all, for taking the time to read and (hopefully) enjoy! I'll tell you what, Helga proved to be quite challenging here. My goal was to show a vulnerable girl who refused to go to pieces, but who mistook anger for mental strength. Of course, she _would_ cry over what happened to her in the previous chapter, but she wouldn't emerge from it an emotional wreck — that would just seem off for her character. I don't plan on pursuing Helga's future sessions any further, but I hope I've reassured you that she's going to be fine...eventually. Just as well, as I intend for the next chapter to be the finale. We'll see how that goes.**

**And to clarify Doctor Bliss's first initial...I dubbed her Caroline, after Caroline Bliss who played Moneypenny in Timothy Dalton's James Bond films (_The Living Daylights_ remains my all-time favorite).**

**Staying with the remaining doctors at the medical center, you have 2 very dated pop culture references, 1 unashamed exercise in puerility akin to _that_ turkey leg scene in the series and 1 rather specific easter egg in honor of The JAM.**

**xxXXXxx**

**And now to respond to the reviewers:**

**The JAM:** I hope the de-escalation was just as engrossing.

**Orange Ratchet**: Well, hopefully they're on the right track to becoming better.

**xxXXXxx**

**And as always, we end with the Spotify list:**

Someday We'll Know – Hall & Oates

Take Me Home – Phil Collins

She's Madonna – Robbie Williams

Something That You Said – The Bangles

**xxXXXxx**

**And that's the chapter done. See you soon!**


	12. Love Is A Doing Word

**Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.**

**ICYMI: Arnold and Helga have an accidental encounter that paves the way for Helga to accept Arnold's decision. To no surprise of Rhonda.**

* * *

**12\. Love Is A Doing Word**

"Hey Pheebs, what did you get for question 12? I got that the father is 43 and the son is 13, but…I'm not sure, I think I went wrong somewhere."

Helga and Phoebe were in the latter's room one late afternoon, helping each other with their homework. Or, more accurately: Phoebe was doing all the helping, though lately she'd been doing less of it.

"Why Helga!" Phoebe responded. "You're absolutely right! That is the correct answer!"

It had been a month since Helga resumed her sessions with Doctor Bliss and already some progress was evident. Helga never spoke in-depth about the sessions, but from what Phoebe Heyerdahl could gather, Helga was now coming to terms with the incontrovertible choice that Arnold had made which didn't include her. Phoebe could also glean from Helga's scant information that the unibrow had greatly changed her attitude towards relationships, specifically on how romantic rejection didn't necessarily equate to _outright_ rejection.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Helga. "Are you serious? I thought I screwed that one up royally!"

"I'm afraid so, Helga!" Phoebe pretended to mourn. "Sorry to say that you appear to be improving in this subject!"

"Well doi! I almost did our friendship in because of how I used you. I gotta start pulling my own weight around. Show that I'm a long way from when as a baby I stole from your bottle on the swings."

The encounter in Arnold's room was still a painfully awkward memory as it had put a lot of strain on their friendship. The accusations of conspiracy each had faced – based admittedly on undisputable truths and logically sound conjecture – led to them not speaking to each other for a week afterward.

Surprisingly, it was Helga who made the first move at reconciliation. Armed with Doctor Bliss's advice, Helga approached Phoebe with a litany of wrongdoings since Pre-K. And she unpacked everything: Every slight; every instance of manipulation and strong-arming; every example of taking Phoebe and their friendship for granted. She unpacked, then groveled for forgiveness; Phoebe listened, considered, then forgave.

"And Arnold and Rhonda?" Phoebe followed up.

"We've started talking to each other. It's…rather civil, actually. Ninety percent of the time at least. I think we're on the way to becoming friendly. How about you and Tall Hair Boy?"

Phoebe's mood subsided at the question. "We're not sure. We've tried talking it through, trying to see each other's point of view, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know," Phoebe attempted to clarify as her mood subsided further. "It's as if there's a gate between us but it just can't be opened. I sometimes wonder if we should even continue trying…" Phoebe then realized how dampened her mood had become, and so sought to change the subject. "By the way, you said you are now on civil terms with Arnold and Rhonda…_ninety_ percent of the time? What of the other ten?"

To which Helga smiled impishly.

* * *

Meanwhile, over in Rhonda's room, preparations were underway. Rhonda was preparing a sticky substance in a bowl as she spoke to her quarry.

"Look Arnold, it's not that I'm not impressed that you were able to get us on friendly terms with Helga. Well, you and Doctor Bliss if we're being honest, but that's beside the point," Rhonda spoke as she looked about to enjoy just a bit _too_ much, whatever was to follow. "But unfortunately, something we agreed not to let out, got out. And unfortunately, you're the one who talked and now you must pay the penalty."

Lying on her bed in front of her was Arnold. He was clad in his usual fashion ensemble, except for his jeans which had been replaced with a pair of baggy board shorts hoicked up to expose as much thigh as possible. Rhonda, for her part, had met him in her red, full-length night-gown which she was still wearing.

They were here as a result of their first meeting with Helga following the latter's initial sessions with Doctor Bliss. After some small talk, Helga began expressing contrition for her actions before asking the couple for forgiveness. The gesture was accepted, and the path to reconciliation became clear. But Helga being Helga, had a sting in the tail.

"_Oh, and Princess,_" – Helga had spoken the title in good humor that time around – "_I hope you'll get a chance to flash your undies to Arnold again, seeing how he likes the ones with the white and blue stripes._"

"So please understand," Rhonda continued with her ministrations, "the point is not that Helga overheard what you mentioned to Gerald about what happened in this room after that baseball game. The point is that you mentioned it in the _first_ place!"

Arnold had been silently listening to her all the time, unnerved at how calm and collected his girlfriend sounded as she was about to administer his penalty. "Rhonda, Gerald is my best friend!" he pleaded. "And best friends don't keep secrets! What about you and Nadine?"

He then saw how unmoved she was, though her devilish grin had not subsided in the slightest. He next tried a different tack: "Don't you think it's strange that I'm being punished by the gossip queen, for _gossip_?"

"Ah, but we had an agreement, Arnold Shortman!" – Oh, she was enjoying this! – "As Daddy would say, 'we are merely fulfilling the terms of the deal'."

"Would it help me to say that I'm really, _really_ sorry?" he pleaded a last-gasp appeal for clemency.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Rhonda cooed back. "Look, Arnold," she continued no less lovingly, "you're a wonderful person and I love you, but as I said this is what you agreed to. Tell anyone what you saw when I had my pants down and there'd be consequences. Understand that there's nothing personal here."

Eventually, her preparation was complete, and she approached her recumbent boyfriend.

"But perhaps this will make it a bit more…tolerable?" she teased as she undid and slipped out of the gown to reveal herself in the black one-piece swimsuit he last saw during their trip with Nadine. For good measure, she twirled on the spot to afford him a full 360 view. She then looked down at him and declared: "_Well!_ I seem to have the desired effect!"

She was – of course, _of course_ – referring to the goosebumps that had appeared on his legs and (more relevantly) to his fast-developing adolescent leg hair that was now standing on end. Arnold for his part, was grateful that his swim trunks were loose-fitting, else Rhonda would have realized that his leg hair wasn't the only thing standing on end.

"Aah! Cold!" Arnold yelped as Rhonda smeared the substance over a particularly hairy patch on his upper right thigh. He continued watching her place a strip of paper over the goo and smooth it out. Rhonda remained unaffected: "Hey, be glad I changed my mind about the hot wax. I saw what my mother goes through and well…let's just say I don't _hate_ you!"

Satisfied that the preparations were at last complete, she held onto a loose piece of the strip before: "Don't worry, Arnold, you're in good hands now. Now in three…two—"

_RIP!_

**xxXXXxx**

On the sidewalk across the Lloyd home stood Nadine, anticipatorily eying Rhonda's window. She knew what was coming, and she knew it would be coming at any moment. So engrossed was she that she barely registered Gerald's arrival.

"Hey Nadine! 'Sup?"

"Gerald! You startled me!" Nadine reacted.

"Girl, don't trip! I'm only here because you invited me!" Then, a little less excitably: "So what gives, anyway?"

Nadine simply motioned to Rhonda's open bedroom window and explained enigmatically: "Apparently…your best friend told you something he shouldn't have, and _my_ best friend found out about it. And now…"

"And now there's a penalty involved?"

"Unless you want to admit to pushing him into telling you? I've seen how good you are at guilt-tripping him, hm?"

"Oh, hell no!" protested Gerald, though his guilty, sheepish expression was clear as day.

"Still," continued Nadine, trying to pivot away from that particular topic, "you're still a loyal friend to him. I mean, you were in a very difficult position that day in his room. You had to choose between your girlfriend and your best friend. Plus…you stood up for me when all you had to do was look the other way and take Phoebe's side."

At _that_, Gerald was taken aback. "Nah, that was just me doing the right thing."

"So…you and Phoebe. How's it going? Don't answer if you don't want to,"

Gerald was surprised by both the question and the willingness with which he answered it. "I want to make it work and we've tried talking it through, but every time we end up shouting at each other and—"

"_**Y****EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHH!"**_

The wail from Rhonda's room was loud enough, and at enough of a frequency, to cause immediate major discomfort to the pair's ears. In addition to that, it caused a severe rattle in the window frames of the residence behind them. Then, every dog and cat in the surrounding blocks started yelping, howling and mewling in obvious agony. Car alarms were set off, and an elderly passer-by collapsed from his pacemaker that he loudly announced had stopped. Luckily for him, it sounded as if help and a call to 911 were well within range.

It took a while for the aural discomfort to ease up before the two were left simply staring bemusedly at each other. Nadine was first to crack as she snorted out a laugh. Gerald joined in and within seconds they were doubled over with uproarious, irrepressible laughter, to the point where they had to move hurriedly to another block for fear of being spotted by Arnold (not so much by Rhonda…). There they let the laughter run its course before standing in hitched silence.

Nadine broke the silence with: "That. Was. _Awesome!_"

To which Gerald concurred: "Yeah! I never knew my man could _pitch_ that high!"

Then he held out a fist toward her, to which she responded by bumping it with her own. "Thanks, Nadine," he said. "This really cheered me up. But I gotta get going home now, so…later!"

As he was turning to head home, he heard Nadine say his name, causing him to turn back toward her…in time to see and feel her lips on his. Her kiss was brief and awkward. Nadine picked up on how astounded Gerald was by her actions, and timidly offered: "In case it doesn't work out with Phoebe..."

Number 33 was rendered petrified before slowly replying: "Nadine, why are you making me feel so guilty?"

"Oh sorry, Gerald!" Nadine retracted from him. "I-I…don't know what came over me. I…I—"

But Gerald cut her off: "I mean…now I'm feeling guilty…because…because…now I want to do it again…"

Both were surprised at how easily and how readily that second kiss took place, as well as how long it lasted. When they were done, it was a return to stunned silence as they stared unsurely at each other.

"Later!" they eventually said to each other in one voice before taking off for their homes.

**xxXXXxx**

Rhonda's mirth at Arnold would not be contained. It had started the instant Rhonda ripped the strip off of his leg. She had watched with no small amount of glee as he rolled and spasmed and yelled on the bed. Doing so, he'd also issued forth a list of creative vitriol that invoked Wolfgang, a swarm of angry hornets, and a bed of rusty nails.

"Oh my word, Arnold! Do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?" she commented once he was done ranting.

Arnold was now in a fetal position on the bed, still desperately trying to rub the pain out of the afflicted area. Through all his distress, Rhonda never stopped smiling. She remained smiling up until and after his agony had subsided enough for him to stop rubbing.

"Right, now _that_ was for the blabbing."

Taking that to mean that his ordeal was over, Arnold tentatively got up from the bed and straighten the pipes of his trunks.

"And _this_…is for being a wonderful boyfriend every other time!" announced Rhonda as she moved in on him for a kiss on his cheek. _That_ surprised him: Rhonda, who just now had kissed him so tenderly after making him feel the most intense pain he'd ever felt. All while sporting the sweetest, sincerest smile.

Rhonda caught on easily to his confusion – he was always easy to read – and explained, still smiling: "Look what's done is done. You've paid your debt, and now" – she pinched his chin to turn his face towards hers – "it's time to move on." There was further punctuation to her statement when she pressed her mouth on his for a longer peck.

_What a girl_, Arnold extolled internally.

"Rhonda, you're something else!" he extolled externally.

"I _know_, right?" she acknowledged back. Then a glint of mischief flashed in her eyes as she asked: "You know, my parents won't be back for another hour." She then placed two fingertips on his breastbone and applied just enough of a poke to force him back into a seated position on the bed. "What do we do with that amount of time?" she continued, sidling onto the bed next to him.

"Well? Any ideas?" She leaned her head towards him, stopping for him to meet her halfway.

They lost track of time – a pleasant side-effect of the amorous embracing, caressing, and kissing that took place. Side-effects also included lingering breathlessness and the uncontrollable smiling.

"Wow," Rhonda huffed in delight. "That…that-that.." – she was at a rare loss for words – "that was rather…nice!"

"Yeah…nice," agreed Arnold.

"Look at us! Regular English majors!" chuckled Rhonda as she moved for her usual clothing items which she put on over her swimsuit. Then back to her boyfriend: "You're not hungry, are you? Let's head down to the kitchen. Suddenly I'm starving!"

**xxXXXxx**

Minutes later they were in the kitchen, sitting across from each other while snacking on assorted crudités and mineral water, both still lambent at what had happened. "So…what does this mean now? For us," asked Arnold in an unusually bold move.

"Good question," answered a receptive Rhonda. "I mean, I enjoyed what just happened. And we have gotten to know each other so much better before any of what just happened."

"But?" Arnold anticipated.

"But…look, it's just that you seem to have gotten to know me better than I've gotten to know you."

This confused Arnold, who responded appropriately: "Excuse me, Rhonda?"

Rhonda's expression changed to one of earnest contemplation. "I mean…think about it. You've gotten to know the me that very few others even know exists. My parents really like you…I mean, look at _this!_ You and me, alone at my place? They walk in, I tell them we're just doing homework and that's the end of it. That's how much they like and trust you!"

"Wow! I never knew that!" Arnold was surprised. "I thought they were just being nice."

"Oh Arnold! Clueless as ever!" The tone of Rhonda's rebuke was straddling a gap between playful and wistful. "How many times have you been here? How many times have you had dinner here? You think they'll have you over just to be _nice_? They _like_ you, they really do! They like _us_!"

"OK? So what's the problem?"

"I want to get to know you as well as you know me! And not just through making out, though.." – she trailed off, eyelids aflutter, before settling herself – "Anyway! I got to know a lot about your grandparents and the other boarders. But what do I really know about _you_? Where were you born? Who were your parents? What did they do? Why—"

She stopped instantly, having seen how dour his disposition had become. Having seen what a sore spot the topic of his parents still was.

"Omigawd, Arnold, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to come on so strong!"

Arnold heaved a deep sigh before. "Well, I suppose this was going to come up eventually," he began. "Thing is, you and me, we met each other in Pre-K so you know me about as well as I do."

He then looked to see that he had her full attention. "All I know from before then are short flashes that I can remember, stuff I dream about, and also what Grandpa tells me."

"Which isn't always reliable?"

"Which isn't always reliable."

"Well," suggested Rhonda, "care to talk about it anyway? I guess sharing what you know can't hurt."

At that, Arnold smiled, enough to lean across the counter to kiss his girlfriend on her forehead. Somehow that little gesture felt more profound to him than the recent activity in which they were involved.

"Thanks, Rhonda," he said. "Where would you like me to start?"

_**THE END…FOR NOW**_

* * *

**And that's it for this story. Thank you for reading. liking and reviewing. It's always been appreciated, never taken for granted. At this point, I am amazed at how I was able to go from a trio of one-shots to this, a 12-chapter tale which was really more of a crisis of conscience as I felt the need to address the question about Helga and how she'd react to the Arnda. As you've read previously, I originally wanted to make her a background character with no special feelings for the footballhead either way. But that wouldn't have been fair to her; in fact, that would have been downright insulting. **

**You'll probably also notice three callbacks, one from Rhonda III and two from the 'Jacqueline' chapter of this story. ****Another source of inspiration was the comic strip, 'Arnold Rides The Grinder', which inspired his scream in this chapter.**

**The idea of Arnold having enough leg hair to wax off came from a friend of mine who back when we were in primary school was already starting to grow facial hair. This was in the second grade, which was enough for me to consider Arnold's scenario plausible. **

**So anyway, the stage has been set for the fifth and final story. No spoilers or even teasers, but expect some surprises based on left-field assumptions and interpretations. There'll also be conclusions to the plot threads left hanging over here.**

**xxXXXxx**

**Anyway, to the reviewers we go:**

**SkullGuy0**: I was wondering why the stats for my Rhonda tales spiked so sharply on Sunday 03/22! That was you, right? Thanks for the kind words. And you're awesome for reading the stories.

**Orange Ratchet**: I do hope you enjoyed it. You're still the benchmark for building chemistry between characters and I have much to learn from you in that aspect.

**The JAM**: A straight-up 'Great chapter!' from you carries so much weight. Thank you so much for enjoying the chapter.

**xxXXXxx**

**And here's the Spotify list for the final chapter:**

Fool If You Think It's Over – Chris Rea

Stuck With You – Huey Lewis & The News

Light My Fire – UB40

**And with that, I'm out of here! Be on the lookout for the fifth and final chapter! Peace out and stay healthy.**


End file.
